untitled

They say she came from the north, and spoke the words of the horsemen, the horse, the men who eat the horse and the fungal strands that take the men. They say she was good with words.
They say she saw the flood gnaw and splice the foundations of all but eight houses in her city.
They say her fingers are stained blue with copper nitrate.
They say her ankles creep with verdigris, as would an old statue, in an older garden.
They say she is younger than she looks.
They say she killed a man.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

2 responses to “untitled

  • bengwalchmai

    I like this.

    It combines the mythic resonance your poetry innately has with an understated sense of form – and you know me, I’m obsessed with form when it comes to poetry – so I particularly like the defined ‘They say she was good with words.’

    The beginning also feels like stream of conscious but the second sentence undercuts that and thereafter, we get a growing reticence.

    Good stuff, sir.

  • benchic

    Oh, thanks very much. 🙂

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