It is always the same:
she is standing over me
in the forest clearing,
a dab of blood on her cheek
from a rabbit or a deer.
I am aware of nothing
but my mutinous flesh,
and the traps of desire
sent to test it—
her bare arms, bare
shoulders, her loosened hair,
the hard, high breasts,
and under a belt
of knives and fish-lures,
her undressed wound.
Every night the same:
the slashed fetlock,
the buckling under;
I wake in her body
broken, like a gun.
Source: Poetry (March 2002).
Born in Perthshire, poet Robin Robertson was brought up on the northeast coast of Scotland where, as he says in a 2008 interview, “history, legend and myth merged cohesively in the landscape.” Robertson’s early influences include the stories of Celtic and Classical myth, the vernacular ballads, and folklore. His deeply sensory poems explore notions of love and loss framed by the dialogue between the classical and the . . .
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