Omen

A new poem by Will Eaves

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After the wind stops, 
    we are sloshed
to and fro in the silence 
    like drowned ducklings 

or a photograph developing
    in its tray.
Harder and harder to avoid,
    these images of aftermath 

and no reply:
    a still garden 
where the blossom 
    neither fails nor fruits,

the seedlings never push up
    from the root,
the bee never docks
    in the colour-blind flower.

Will Eaves is a novelist and a poet. His latest book, Broken Consort: Essays, reviews, and other writings, is published by CB Editions.

This article appears in the 18 September 2020 issue of the New Statesman, Planet Covid

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