Cecilia – a poem

A version of this poem was published in May 2015 in the Newcastle Centre for the Literary Arts Review here and in Bitter Blush in December 2016 here.




Little porcelain doll; raven strands in curled crowns

Tied with thick black rope. White gossamer waves flow

Off your hollow eggshell body, down to black-tipped feet,

Black-knotted bows – spiders cautiously showing a leg.

A deadly bow outlines your lip,

Venus eyes gaze through shadow. A wooden pall

Crushed the light. Now fallen from your marble mantle

You lie here. In this dark, satin gloves are wool, lace trim

The same midnight-nothing as the coarse string

Of the rag doll’s plait. You may as well be nude.

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