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Cliff Fell

Fugacity 05
Online Poetry Anthology


index

The Swallow

When the swallow got lost in the pump-house, fluttering
its frantic blue-black wings against the window’s

brittle spider-webby glass, and I caught it there, and held it
like a heartbeat’s quiver in my hands,

did it release into my soul’s invisible sky, this mind-map of
migrations, this glimpse into our comings and our goings?




First published in The Adulterer’s Bible/Cliff Fell (VUP, 2003)


 
 


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Last updated 24 April, 2005