An owl swivels in her carriage of primordial haunts.
In her padlocked church of trees.
She knocks against night-forest scars,
blithely written in frost and the weight of oak, her sorrowful gagged companion.
Claustrophobic caresses of furtive tree voices stroke
the few unseeing guests who tentatively venture and retreat,
in their torchlight.
A wandering man falls from his unlistening life into a scratched lap of thorns, laughing beyond his dark.
Fading into a blank page of hunger, he trespasses across dense woodland, past its muted constituents, who congregate
in his presumptuous everywhere.
Evading humble patient rabbit holes, he carries the intangible
abyss bowl of night in his arms, beyond his comprehension, beyond his dormant dark.
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Foy Timms is a poet/writer based in Reading, Berkshire, U.K. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Fevers Of The Mind Poetry Digest, Hypnopomp, North of Oxford, Peeking Cat Poetry, Pulp Poets Press and Twist In Time among others. She is preoccupied with British towns/villages, social exclusion and the sociopolitical dimensions of living spaces.