Bob Beagrie


Bob Beagrie

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As yet, no sign of her ‘though the days

are getting noticeably longer the nights

we carry, especially those inside us

seem denser with the sedimentary

darkness of accumulated Winter

like compacted snow

ice-bonded to a solidity too hard

to make angel impressions with your own

prostrated body, and I realise

I have it all wrong like most things,

that these sooty nights are also

hers, as well as each of ours,

Nights of the Dead seeping in

from our Underworlds,

where she sits in the throne room

with its eternal fleshless nocturnes,

itching to put on a different mask,

slip out and follow worm tunnels

into rabbit burrows and crawl out

into sun-warmed, wind-sung air.

Just look at her, her eyes are hollow,

Poor Love and judging by the scabs

on her arms she's self-harming again

(who can blame her)

does she even remember the body

heat of another's skin against her's?

There are a few pink pomegranate

seeds still to digest before

she can re-cross the Black River

and steer us all back to the flame

that smoulders on within the egg.

In the meantime hear her crisp wail,

"Patience my children, you must first

learn to love and hold this bleakness,

find peace in the keenness of my rage."

Bob Beagrie

Bob Beagrie has published numerous collections of poetry and several pamphlets, most recently And Then We Saw The daughter of the Minotaur (The Black Light Engine Press 2020), Civil Insolencies (Smokestack 2019), Remnants written with Jane Burn (Knives, Forks & Spoons Press (2019), This Game of Strangers – written with Jane Burn (Wyrd Harvest Press 2017),Leasungspell (Smokestack 2016). His work has appeared in numerous anthologies and magazines and has been translated into Finnish, Urdu, Swedish, Dutch, Spanish, Estonian and Karelian. He lives in Middlesbrough and is a senior lecturer in creative writing at Teesside University.

Photo by Kev Howard.