Echo – published in Sledgehammer

Because I took the form
of any that possessed me,
just as water does – in river/ girl,
vase/ daughter, sea/ woman;
and to be whatever I reflect,
learning to hide and give.
But I am more than
broken reeds and silt,
more than the sticklebacks
that dwell in summer’s pools
of copper sun. Give me
a name that sets me free
as we walk round the pond
my words, dredged out of mud
are rusty parts – corrupted, obsolete.
Look how the dying light cuts
golden shapes into the rising mist,
of weary gulls in flight.

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