Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Around the base of the trees amongst the broad oaks,

I leave my daughters to ripen in the darkness.

Beneath the cunning soil’s breath, sweet white snowdrops

their strewn hearts are glowing in the darkness.

The soil thanks us; we roll up our cuffs,

fill our pocket mouths defenceless in the darkness.

A gentle murmured refrain like old rain,

snowflakes again we answer to the darkness.

I’ve seen those girls foraging for wild mushrooms,

the rim around their retinas turning in the darkness.

We plant cloves, tiny armless gods into the loam,

poke them deeper into the uncertainty of darkness

My girls are distracted and starved of light,

which is normal, which is essence of girl-darkness.

I slip outside and light a candle, cauterize a bud,

Shabash   I call to my girls, my praise in the darkness.