Iris Anne Lewis – Song for Seahenge
Let bronze axes sing as they fell an oak.
Twist a rope from honeysuckle twine,
haul the tree to the saltmarsh land,
strew reeds and blooms of thrift
and mallow on its upturned stump.
Her body lies cradled in the roots
of the oak. Offered up to the sky,
flesh gifted to harriers and eagles,
bones scoured clean by the skirling wind.
We stole the timber,
the heartwood and sapwood,
swilled it with water,
infused it with wax,
encased it in glass.
On the shore at Holme beach
waves swirl as her cenotaph.
Sands shift as the tide ebbs and flows.
Iris Anne Lewis is published in a variety of print and online publications. Nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she has featured in the Silver Branch Series of Black Bough Poetry, won 1st prize in Gloucestershire Poetry Society competition and has been invited on several occasions to read her work at the Cheltenham Literary Festival. In 2018 she founded Wordbrew, a Cirencester-based group of poets. Twitter: @IrisAnneLewis
Photograph: Canadian Badlands. Horsethief Canyon (134) by Sylvia Santiago
Sylvia Santiago creates with words, images, and combinations of the two. Her work appears in Cutbow Quarterly, Ellipsis Zine, Harpy Hybrid Review, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter: @sylviasays2