She beckons me into the apothecary,
shows me the claw of a cat,
a silver feathered hat,
a goose’s foot.

Argentina Anserina: silverweed.

I go to the wasteland
where it has kneaded itself
into the gravel like a cat,

its nexus of stolons
umbilcaling sons and daughters,

yellow flowers like small fireworks
on the borders of the labyrinth
where soft shoes tread:

the pointed boots of witches
and fairies

then the man who lived on a square of land
by grinding its roots into bread.

No need for plantage.

P1210348 - Copy

Brockholes Labyrinth

2 thoughts on “Silverweed

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