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“A meeting point for poets of all latitudes”
— VĂ­ctor Rodríguez Núñez

Elizabeth Barrett, from A Dart of Green and Blue

Say then

Say that the colour of your shirt
reflected the lake in your eyes,
that the pitch of your alto voice
made me tremble inside.

Say that you noticed the watery beads
of glass around my neck, gestured
to a seat as if you had expected this —
offered paper, steaming tea, a pen.

Say that at the sound of your name
I unwound, as if I'd known always
that in a carriage of strangers I would
reach to brush dust from your cheek.

Say that it was fear of this
made me long for the train to slide
from the tracks of that wooden bridge —
to hang suspended over the glittering lake.

Say then that I would fly
like a trapeze girl letting go of the rope,
feel water the colour of your eyes
going over me, filling my throat.