Examine yourself, river.
Wind, you have collapsed
from your adrenalin rush.
Sun, you’ve flooded the vertical
splashing reeds and palming
planes. Damaged oak,
you have no heart or gut.
Your only organ, skin.
I cling to you tighter
than a striped shell
on a fennel stalk.

from Mollicle (Nine Arches, 2010), © Claire Crowther 2010, used by permission of the author

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