My husband lives
on West Wind road.
He sends me feathers
by air-mail, across
the Atlantic, to thread
my mousy hair.
And when spangled
bird-gold’s not enough,
he conjures seamonsters
from the northern oceans.
They bring me Cornish diamonds
in their teeth. I pay them
with the fingerbones
of neighbours. There are
brilliant stones strewn
all across my life.
I might rather have him
with me, but the rewards
of our separation
are sweet. Theorem:
the nth sign of madness
is this snow
between my toes, the
go-faster stripes
of clay across the soles
of my feet. Theorem:
we will liken our souls
to a pair of winged horses.
Tell me, which one am I?
I drag him to the dark sea.
He sends me skeletons
of birds, a way of calling me up
to heaven, to him.
~ Imogen Cassels
Imogen Cassels is from Sheffield, and studies English at the University of Cambridge. She was a Foyle Young Poet of the Year in 2013, and her work has appeared in Black & BLUE, Cadaverine, Far Off Places and Miracle.