Poetry / Lucy Ryell

‘A Farewell’

Issue 3. January 15, 2022

A FAREWELL

September sleeps

in

your clementine pores

your cornea

a trapped seed

                        beneath your fingernail

the hollow of your neck

the nest

the resting place

still warm with orange

blue

the riverbed

            its ripples

the frog’s throat

stuck

somewhere

between the leap                                

and landing

she hides

under rainbow oils

the shadows

      beneath the mallard’s beak

in the eyelids of oak trees

the spider’s silk geometry

 

she inhales

radiance

and drinks from streams

her lungs breed lichen

her blood bleeds green

 

treading

at dawn with the blackbirds

she snorts cherry blossom dust

weeping

showers of white gold

juice

  swallows in the sunrise

 

she casts

dandelion dreams

and sings

in the whip of a squirrel’s tail

she      walks      in      foxes’     footprints

 

she swims in

the shine of urine trails

dark puddles

and snail magic

the pulp of squashed flower stems

 

she counts the tears of ants

and trembles

 

she sinks in the wrinkles of dry petals

and wishes on whiskers

of hares

 

she washes in

    tendrils

      of

smoke

  of leaves

the ash heaps

       wax and

  woodpiles

 

she hangs on

hay bales

the gleam of beetle wings

the sneezes of mud-covered mice

                                                in empty fields

at dusk

she blows kisses on strawberry palms

 

she sleeps

in the scratches on your arms

    the magpie pecks                           

in bones

in hair by half burnt leaves

buried

in stone

 

in sweet lemon goosebumps

in brown earth

 

sunken.

 

 

Lucy graduated with an MA in English Literature from the University of Lincoln in 2020. She currently provides learning support for students in further education and writes in her spare time. She is particularly interested in ecopoetry.