Shownotes
A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.
Les Ondines
Claire Shalhope
I devote myself
into secret gardens
Where grey stone
is covered in soft ivy
that are full of whispers
of your demurral
Fleshy moss that sits
beneath my toes,
feeds my woes,
and fumbles
with our inhibitions
The scarlet rose thorns
may prick my thumb,
But you'll oblige
to taste my blood
How senseless am I
to become insouciant
As the sun's beams
golden light of my
self-condemnation
so I carve our initials into the old oak
But a Fortnight ago,
all our woven troves
and glances piercing
each of our souls.
Sweet honeysuckles grow
on twisted branches
To roam our coves
of endearment
I uncover your guise
our enthrallment denies
one another.
How delicately the water
ripples upon your waist,
Where our stillness interlaced
troeping our patience
Our dalliance shines
luminescent in the
tourmaline skies
fate delivers solace
In our honeyed oasis
As the wistful naiads tokens
More from Claire Shalhope ↓
Support + Stay Connected to OPO
If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.
Poetry reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.
