Liv Aldridge
My Crow In The Fog Of The Forest
[With a 12th Line by Virginia Woolf]
I would never
wear white it’s impractical, you
could say and defy yourself.
The sun releases a green powder,
you could say. At first it is sifted,
and then it is used.
All the dislocations
you could say, sighing.
The bathroom
keeps replacing
its inhabitants.
No two people are ever alike
listening to the smouldering hits.
The sun releases a green powder.
I would never wear white
it’s impractical, you
could say and define yourself.
wear white it’s impractical, you
could say and defy yourself.
The sun releases a green powder,
you could say. At first it is sifted,
and then it is used.
All the dislocations
you could say, sighing.
The bathroom
keeps replacing
its inhabitants.
No two people are ever alike
listening to the smouldering hits.
The sun releases a green powder.
I would never wear white
it’s impractical, you
could say and define yourself.
Mussel
a thought in the sediment
this is impossible
this hard lead
to unsonorous
lakebottom
lowered
breakdown place
dive
and the brine
sinks its hues
swim
above lakefloor
bloodcloud
under sinking force
time is not a heap!
but an effort
to move.
leave cleaning to the organism
come distancing
endlessly
and alive
smell fresh
damp.
I opened
my damp
and swam in it,
it refreshed me.
it concentrated
the browning inland lake
not smelling
of seafish,
or of stung clear crossings.
I have sunken
in parallel
with pike
where an avian world
is impossible
sun ray
mussel wait
Liv Aldridge is a bilingual poet from Sweden living in Glasgow. Her work has been published in Porridge, Running Dog Mag and Gutter Magazine. She is currently working on a poetry manuscript titled Come Loose.