Good news. I am glad to see that "The Buried Butterfly" - a poem by Isobel Dixon - is up on Poetry Daily today. It's been selected from the section at The Manhattan Review I recently edited, on The Young British Poets. The UK launch event for this special issue will be on 5 March, at 91 Marylebone High Street, Oxfam Books & Music, from 7-10 pm
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
Comments