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Poetry

say the moon is high in the corner
and swerves as the moss deepens

say to enter White Moss is to walk into fearful
is to notice a bone in the body light as a pin

say ground elder reaches thigh deep
hides the drenched patches of earth

say tormentil weaves a network of stem
grass of parnassus scatters stars

say for the moss you give up silks for hessian
say it is true—— declare the moss sacred

 

 


Lydia Harris has made her home in the Orkney island of Westray. Her second poetry collection, Henrietta’s Library of the Whole Wide World (Blue Diode), was published in 2024. A further collection, if she was my god (Scarlet Tiger), is due out this autumn.

 

 

 

Photo by Aldo Hernandez on Unsplash

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