Poetry: Chrys Salt

Chrys Salt
Lockdown Celandine

I’ve seen you many times
but not like this
dressed up in shine,
I’ve never stopped to say hello,
never spoke. I know
you come in every greening spring
with all your folk
seen in the swift periphery
of passing by;
I didn’t see
your heart shaped leaf gloss,
specificity,
your sunbright single petal star,
radiant yellow yellowness
fine arcing neck
that tips your merry head agley.
.
Today I stopped to look at you,
beyond the hurly burly time,
fur-tufted stamens in your candid eye.



Ground Elder. 

You are this garden's lifetime now.
Lush leaves conceal your villainy,
our planting of no consequence. 

We would nurture if we could 
but you outweigh our care,  
outnumber us 
march down new planting, 
suffocate. 

We come with fork and hoe
our killer sprays,
our paltry weaponry,
but you, more cunning than we know;
hide out in bunkers underground 
and armies grow. 
We would kill you with cunning spite,
but one stray snip of your infection
spawns insidious embroidery. 

Poppies, self seeded shout defiance 
in your face 
but you sneak in, usurp their space. 
You  walk through language, 
indecipherable; 
You walk through walls, omnipotent. 
Go forth your virus says and multiply. 


Chrys Salt  is a widely published and much travelled poet – the recipient of awards and bursaries (various) including an MBE for Services to The Arts 2014.

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