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Three Poems by Claire Crowther

 

Paper Pattern

 

When I was laid under our lilac

not much made…

 

When I was laid under our lilac

(being born in May)

all the pattern was in my body.

 

I opened my eyes to rough leaves

blowing apart and broken.

 

Now I hold a leaflet

of shape with a picture and how to make it,

now I can read the pattern on paper

and try to make…

 

and every evening lay it down

not much made…

 

 

 

 

Flock

 

I want the inheritance

of shared hair.

 

I want the inheritance

of practicalities.

The knitting machine must punch its cards,

its electromagnets must cling on.

 

Yet I have to name belief as well as work it.

Which family title identifies

the hairiness of beings?

 

I am a Shorthaired Part-fleeced Hobs Moat.

You are a Thickhaired Whole-fleeced Shetland.

We are the family Sheep

of Shared Hair.

 

 

 

 

Pigeon Accessory

 

 

Since we peer

out from clothes

as if from thickets of bushes

 

birds read us:

‘Is that glove

a metonymic need to host me?’

 

Looking for

character

inside outfits is digging holes

 

in water.

I’ve not caped

nor swashbuckled nor flounced except

 

briefly once –

but I do

find myself alongside a rat

 

or pigeon

balancing,

surprised, a burden of their style.

 

 

Claire Crowther has published three collections of poetry (with Shearsman Press), several pamphlets, and has a pamphlet, Hap, forthcoming from Happenstance Press later in 2019. Her work is recorded at the Poetry Archive. She is co-editor of the Long Poem Magazine.

 

Photography by Tony Crowther.

 

 

 

 

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