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CLAIRE GASKIN



Thinking of you Neruda

Why do we play with life and death and call it sex?
How did Byron use a skull as a drinking cup?
Did John Trelawny’s hands heal after he burnt them on Shelley’s heart?

Is falling in love with the author of your life plausible?

Why does urgency never feel like a waste of time?
Spending time with the dying never seems like a waste, is
spending time with the dead?
Can my dead friends hear me when I read poetry aloud?

Is money the blame on the face of time?
Tell me is all desire in the moment?

Can you hold a horizon over your shoulder like a shawl?

Is to feel secure in prison enough?

Do the dying want ceilings of glass?

Is a shallow sigh heard on this still deep evening?

Underwater wisdom of
shattered image of
frozen features

Why don’t words on a page move like water over a body?

Do all these daisies on all the hills and lawns make it one property?
Does habit sustain you,
or the present?




More poetry by Clare Gaskin

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