Poetry by Chloe Eathorne
Illustrations by Saturday Simms
Carn Marth by Chloe Eathorne
In a slip state
against a soft palette of granite
ancestral foxgloves speckled
with white clay
bony petals arch
punctuated
by brackets of slate
Swaying claws fester
our clay bodies gesture
weaving
amongst the wild grass
She emerges
the ancient woman
porcelain eyes closed
to midsummers heat
Blue bottle flies congregate
the margh flick them away
blindfolded, like her
hands humming
beneath telephone wires
Divide yourselves
the way land is split / through sound
her mother tongue an ellipsis
of pewter hurling balls
the lullaby of an enclosed body of water
cradles us
as the Sunday church bell tolls
Scrape back layers of history
with each vibration
intricately woven copper shells
the holy foundation
Organic forms tenderly held
fingertips trace woven rattles
of willow and wicker
cyclical seasons
giving birth
quarried stones rattle
through the womb of the earth
Finger-painted oracles
two crows flying east
a single buttercup
lapped by waves
the melody of nature
Realigning
Reclaimed
Nine Maidens by Chloe Eathorne
Our celestial bodies curve
Into quarterly segments
Pressed, smoothed,
Cooed
A mother’s palm
across the forehead
Under the stagnant skies
We scour for buttercups
Measuring the intricacies between
Waxing/Waning
If it glows
Cupped
In your blue hands
She winks at me through the fields
Glossy red bodied anemone
Laughter pools
From the corners of your mouth,
Reverberating
My vertebrae
A delicious sting of youth
Submerged in cow parsley
Instrumental lullabies
Of granite and moss smudge
Together as lichen
Binds to my breast
We stoic sisters in arms
Sit softly upon this earth
Cocooned in a Chrysalis
Fractures of quartz
These lines we bare
The dawn chorus arrives
A murmuration of Starlings
Recalling
Our prayers
Birthplace by Chloe Eathorne
iron oxide suckling
lapping up the excess at my feet
through monoliths, my mother
milk bottle, Queen Anne’s Lace
granite, like my father
in the back of a pub
and lichen spires
Don’t look down
the velvet cinema
flock in unison
from the bosom of the hill
copper coin embossed agnus
grey and loud
red buds in infancy
and a Chough
