This poem is taken from Stand 223, 17(3) September - November 2019.

Mary Anne Clark Poem

and the shore    the hunter    I with my hooks for eyes
how a sight snags me    how it drags me back
ahead    sky hugely grey    the sea slack
so much everything in which to find something
ammonite    more beautiful than anyone could try to be
belemnite belle et bête    go on and cry to me
make me stop before I’ve walked forever

how filled the air is suddenly with sparrows
how deafening the blurred machine-whir of their wings

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