This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 4 Number 4, 1975.
EssexWhat do I see in it?
Three years trying to forget it
leaves me exactly still
in its cradle of smug plough.
When I sleep I fall immediately
back to its slippery rim of marsh.
With a low horizon of masts
it hedges me in, one eye continually
opened to show my root coiled in your wound.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 288 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 288 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
