Phosphorescent Grapes, a poem by Edwin Stockdale


A sombre figure in russet
like an autumn leaf of buckthorn.

She has been reading Persuasion observed
by fieldfares in the garden.

Her elderberry eyes search the surroundings.
What is she thinking?

She gestures to a blossoming orange,
the tree her captain brought

from his travels. In a bowl a bunch
of grapes, phosphorescent as moonstone.

A whippet, black-muzzled, begs
at her feet. She rises,

a Queen Anne figurine,
removes herself from the room.


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