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Lewis Todd: Two Poems

Published on 25th May 2020

Lakmé

 what remains past hours of visitation
             is out of town for time being
  overwhelming quiet en-route: we are 
                        coming as you ought


arrives you      music to
the bay of black
horses, braying and
misting, a quickening

                    carries us            small
                              away against the
                         world’s comings and
                                       goes flight



eyelid flicker, wing-
beat, wing-glide,
out-breathing     She
is waving good-


                                    bye and the
                         door is blue        so
                                    much about

                                so the ring we


choose still
 to wear

                                  this manner
                                   of carriage



Arête


                      [i]

horses bound   
                           down river, foam
black-eyed to
                           all as near so true
there must be
                           something better
something
                            white wine
or hot
                              water

only in this
                            could I draw
towards
                              lichen


                    [ii]

something              translucent

digestive                system

clung to                 window

                   [iii]

arête, canto passes
                     the name backwards           
through the lip
                     of fallen trunk:

         HER iteration is

         the reinvention
                                       of moss   

by way of
                     sculpture park from         
    first principles, the subtractive

art of seeing everything
                                   all at once
                                          all as

purple

                   [iv]

                                    we pray it
give sharpness, dorsal fin
     ultraviolet, HIS yellow unspoken

cuts the airy way
                                    hid inside

              that        world of delight

                                         the
                                 space
                      between
           par-                   ticulars


Lewis Todd is a poet and PhD student based between Cambridge and Hastings, working on Romanticism, ecology, and scale. He has spent the morning picking elderflowers.



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