The Museum of Water - a poem by Claire Trévien

Posted on Feb 26, 2016


The Museum of Water
Claire Trévien

I never tire of the repetition of bottles:
the evaporation of grief,
a great silty presence,
a shallow song.

Here is a bath bomb tuned to your body.
Elsewhere, backwash, broken water,
a hacked freezer, your favourite river
carried from one country to another.

Light in this postcard is
sieved through a kidney.
There is too much demand
for a street.

I’m naturally still. A pearl
starts with an attack
shattering the shell.

I splinter the pause,
reach for the bowl
and pour out voices
improbably fractured.



Purchase Claire's latest collection, Astéronymesthrough the Penned in the Margins website. 

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