Saturday, 28 March 2015

funeral planning
a brimstone encircles
the holly bush

Friday, 27 March 2015

half moon
the cold spring wind
rattles my ribs

Monday, 23 March 2015

The Balaclava Cantinière

To the scurvied ranks with no appetite,
her meals are seldom edible. At night,
they throw the mutton into the fire
to warm up coffee; will only devour
mouthfuls of mushed-up biscuit or barley:
disease has loosened their teeth. New supplies
are invariably rotten, though the Zouaves
would know what to do with them. The men carve
through snow one day, rain-sodden sludge the next.
The dead out-number the living by six
to one. Yet still she raises her shoulders
and a smile for Fenton's camera.
Her uniform is strangely blemish-free.
The paper on which her image will be
preserved is coated in salt—just like her
meat that no-one in the ranks can endure.


after Roger Fenton, photograph, salt paper print,
from a calotype negative, 1855

Saturday, 21 March 2015

bitter wind
a magpie ghosts
through the lych-gate

Sunday, 15 March 2015

strip-lit night:
the supermarket's aisles
after it's closed

Thursday, 12 March 2015

cherry blossom
every bus arrives
except ours

Tuesday, 10 March 2015

Guardian Country Diary

I have another Country diary piece in the Guardian today.

Sunday, 8 March 2015

spring sun
the old cat pads across
the trampoline

Saturday, 7 March 2015

the cafe tables
back on the pavement
sandalled feet

Friday, 6 March 2015

the cat's ears
furling backwards
dawn moon

Thursday, 5 March 2015

sun-swathed crocuses
goldfinches caper
among the conifers

Tuesday, 3 March 2015

sepia moon
through the pub-window
the arc of a dart

Monday, 2 March 2015

cerise stratus
turns to jonquil
winter's end

Sunday, 1 March 2015

spring warmth
the cat rolls
over and over