Four Poems by Annie Blake

North of Oxford

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Graveyard Bodies Turn Over Every Hundred Years
for Ruby
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their green creek bellies like those of unremembered
vases the twilight buttons up dusk and the honey
moon like a hand worn cardigan the longevity of cemeteries
and winsome meadows the house is a series of smiling saturdays
how her sniveling nooks shed their dark barked canoes because i have forgotten
how water laughs an effulgence in my mind
for once i felt a coruscation life’s crackle the turning over
of winter wood like the ploughing of a field a nascent
conversation between funeral and pentecostal ghosts
whatever births have been carried through its threshold how feathery
the cold wind feels when crossed the unrailed bridges of childhood
the unreeling of middle life a crisp ocean floor and the teetering of shadows owning up
to their merciless hiding places seek
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How Autumn Burns The Maple Leaves
for Evie

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