Here's a mystery quote from one of my favourite poets:
"...She sat silent in her father's house,
learning Swahili from a book with pages fragile as onion skins
and making her trousseau in scandalous coral-coloured silk...
...The day we buried her the sky drooped
with a cloud, low and soft as a goose belly.
In each clod of earth that fell on her coffin
I could hear the popping stab
of a needle pushing into silk
held taut between determined fingers."
I'll be back later on this week to reveal their identity. In the meantime, any guesses...?!
Given Jo Davis’s background as a researcher and advocate in work supporting
healthcare equality, particularly for invisible and complex-chronic
illnesses a...
Dear Matthew
ReplyDeleteI would guess that it's a female poet who has lost a loved relative. Am I close?
Best wishes from Simon R. Gladdish
See my next post...;-)
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