I watched the shadowplay
of trees
against the blinds
one October –
in the way sometimes
you stare
at a pale face across the bed
so long
you hardly see it –
fingers trembling,
vague as a street
at night, as nature
stripped of accident,
they shook
with a gusting stutter
more restless still
for being not
the thing itself.
Sarah Howe
© Sarah Howe, 2015. Extracted from LOOP OF JADE, published by Chatto & Windus
Ett varmt tack till Sarah Howe och Sam Coates på Vintage för att vi fick publicera den här dikten, hämtad ur samlingen Loop of Jade, som bland annat belönades med TS Eliot-priset 2015
På Sarah Howes hemsida hittar du fler dikter, och mycket annat. Läs recension av diktsamlingen i The Guardian.
Ola Wihlke
BearBooks 