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'Captain', they said with a sneer, as if

you'd pulled the title from nowhere -

lover, you were the ship and stars to me.

That morning, moon and sun shared 

a white sky, you leaned close, whispered,


'Whip your skirt off Lily, show 'em 

your red bloomers.' The crowd was all 

glittering eyes as a band of swallows 

chorused me up, summer shifted heather 

and moor, I sang Whitby Bells to the trees.


Love, you never mentioned the reservoir 

lying like a scythe along Scar Top Road,

swallowing church and field for miles

full of black silence and bones,

wanting me for itself.


The last strip of dry land was a tar road,

atoms of sand rose to meet me,

air exploded, the wind called out. 

The last thing I saw was lace 

dancing at the edge of water.

First published in July 2017 in the maiden issue of Strix magazine.

Book no.1
Book no.2
Book no.3
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