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.

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Brockholes Labyrinth


2 thoughts on “Silverweed

  1. Silverweed is one of my favourites. Its leaves make lovely tea and our ancestors used to eat the tubers like we eat tatties, well maybe not chips and crisps.

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