The Museum of Water - a poem by Claire Trévien
The Museum of Water
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
Purchase Claire's latest collection, Astéronymes, through the Penned in the Margins website.