The river is dark, still and silent
as a watching pupil stretching wide
reflections across a distant retina.
The trees become towers then
ogres with black branching clubs.
The reeds are parted by pinching fingers.
And is it Jenny Greenteeth or my own reflection
dragging me down through the horrors?
- a sofa arm like a crushed seal,
and pipes with no end or function
to be trapped in a trolley’s cage,
upended and sunken, enshrined
in the silt face down
like the dead