Urban Physic Garden

This pulse is not mine.
The heart spins
its lightning loom
across taut skin
with bruises run
‘long veins
already weary
with the weight.
You will not let me sleep
but cradle, instead,
the clotting rhythm
of Time’s slow reverse,
until the night
holds me
amidst maternal arms.
 
 
Chris Page
(From Herbarium, a new poetry anthology. Launch and reading 22 July)