50 years
at the cutting edge
of poetry publishing
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Michael Haslam, from A Cure for Woodness

from Face Readdresssed

Her dress was greenest saxifrage, her tears were those of
saturated ground; her intimate was toadflax,
ivy-leaved, in the crannied nook; her instep sprung
dicotyledons; her familiars,
the balsam of far Himalayas, and her breast
or bust was rounded as the best image
of blessed promise. In a fluke of light
her whole appearance aged and changed. The sound
of water which the wind had drowned
came round again deranged.