About the poet
Scottish poet and novelist Christine De Luca was born and raised in Shetland. She writes in both...
Light Show at the Botanics
It’s November, a feral night
and damply furtive.
Scent of viburnum masks the fox’s stink.
The pond is primordial
its soundscape reptilian.
Beams joust, lances tilt.
If we weren’t wildly in love already
we would have head-longed
into the moment. Huge flowers drift past.
We are hankering, sublunary creatures
with that marshmallowy moon in our eyes.
Everyone here is Lucy or a lover.
We sway like reeds in the old lily pond.
Out of this zany dark and ice we will carry
longing and the sun in our eyes forever.
first published in Gutter No 13, © Christine De Luca 2016, used by permission of the author
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