A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.

Les Ondines

Claire Shalhope

I devote myself

into secret gardens

Where grey stone

is covered in soft ivy

that are full of whispers

of your demurral

Fleshy moss that sits

beneath my toes,

feeds my woes,

and fumbles

with our inhibitions

The scarlet rose thorns

may prick my thumb,

But you'll oblige

to taste my blood

How senseless am I

to become insouciant

As the sun's beams

golden light of my

self-condemnation

so I carve our initials into the old oak

But a Fortnight ago,

all our woven troves

and glances piercing

each of our souls.

Sweet honeysuckles grow

on twisted branches

To roam our coves

of endearment

I uncover your guise

our enthrallment denies

one another.

How delicately the water

ripples upon your waist,

Where our stillness interlaced

troeping our patience

Our dalliance shines

luminescent in the

tourmaline skies

fate delivers solace

In our honeyed oasis

As the wistful naiads tokens

More from Claire Shalhope ↓

• @claires.creatives on Instagram

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