POETRY*

 
Sonnet on Shrimps 
A week submerged in summer, and the boat is a green mass of river-weed. Within the hull shrimps flicker and fish glide, threading the full curtains and branches, laces and frills that coat the timbers. A sudden riot of flowering fronds of life on old white-painted boards bobbing in summer sun. A strange Lilliputian world of garden, castle, turret, glade, now lowering to ripples, tethered in hot green, holding fast hoards of inch-long lives, filigreed, sof…

Sorry, you don’t have access to this content. Please log in or email [email protected] for help.