And then it is to want
as lushly as I wanted
at the wetlands,
some old god leaching
the light from our life-bowl:
daylight hours swishing
up the sides, carelessly
held in February’s
chosen glower.
Elixir Elixir! Powder
for the wound,
bottled and corked
and sold
to the weak
or fading,
like us, the heron
shrinking with the
fourteen days it took
to go from there to
here. Hero February, the
oarsman, driving
the year through
the marsh, to my
love, to the end of
my endless unraveling
want, sucking green
from the world, swallowing
its pigment, leaving
the day’s milky white
stuff spreading -
they call it
moonlight.
_______________
Imogen Osborne is a poet from Bristol living in London. She studied English at Cambridge University, and her debut pamphlet, New Year, was published by Cheltenham Poetry Festival in September 2021. @imogenosborne_
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