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2 poems by Rachel Piercey

Lovely face

But Lancelot mused a little space;

He said, “She has a lovely face…”

Take me don’t take me

to the river for her wet cloak

I am lustful I am deadcold

for that greened boat

Be high colour be the shadows

in the mirror

In this cloak men throw their cloaks

across the water

O lover to be my lover

soak up the river

You may need to need the warm cloaks

of my sisters

So the banks

hold dark wet carmine dark wet lapis

And where and wearing whose

should we be happiest

Your yellow hair

‘For Anne Gregory’/ ‘Goblin Market’

Great and golden at your ears!

One curl fresh on its mother-twig

sends the young men into sweet despair.

You know the texts – they all declare

that mornings pass. So skurry, dew-maid,

fill your mouth while fruit is there.

The weather always cools, my dear.

Soon your curls are emptied rinds

and only God could want your skull.


Rachel Piercey is a poet, editor and tutor for adults and children. Her third pamphlet, Disappointing Alice, was recently published by HappenStance; she also has two pamphlets with the Emma Press. Rachel’s poems have appeared in magazines including The Rialto, The Interpreter’s House, Butcher's Dog, Magma and The Poetry Review.


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