Night was and they swayed into it:
a pair of scissors, of sails
turning only into themselves
more other than become.
It is often five o’clock.
Her husband has contracted not
to speak of her and she has forgotten
where to go. Where does everyone go?
Source: Poetry (March 2010).
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This poem originally appeared in the March 2010 issue of Poetry magazine
Lavinia Greenlaw has published three books of poems, most recently Minsk. Her two novels are Mary George of Allnorthover and An Irresponsible Age and she has also published a memoir, The Importance of Music to Girls. Her work for BBC radio includes programs about the Arctic, the Baltic, the solstices and equinoxes, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Bishop, and Dutch landscape painting. She has also written opera libretti and song . . .
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