top of page
Search

Tundra by Hilary Watson

  • Editor
  • Feb 24, 2021
  • 1 min read

I watch your back, naked to the waist

as you fasten the clasp around your wrist.

That it then? I say, knowing 


as the breeze did – the air lifting in 

from the October morning street 

where lamplighters used to walk


each evening, leaving orbs

of light along the worn 

and shifting slabs.


___________


Hilary Watson lives in Cardiff. She's a graduate of Warwick University’s Writers’

Programme and was a Jerwood/Arvon Mentee 2015/16 with mentor Caroline Bird.

She has been shortlisted for the Troubadour International Poetry Prize and the Live

Canon Prize.

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
2 poems by Duncan Chambers 

Rules of the Hunt 1. The Boundaries of the Hunt shall not be limited by Time or Space 2. The Choice of the Quarry shall not be Random,...

 
 
 
2 poems by Phoebe Ambrosini Brown

in vocation / 22 She said writing was like sex in that the goal is to keep doing it. Margery Kempe, speaking her book said He lay before...

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page