Beautiful Creatures, Poem, Poetry

Linda Goulden


I heard you on the hill:
that reeking call
of lust or hunger
that will fill a valley up.

I knew where you had been:
across the cut, raiding
the reed edge, or digging
the last rabbit out.

I watched your children:
snub-nosed, at the water-side,
playing land games
of bite and fight.

And, once, you looked
me in the eye, holding
my gaze until we turned,
each to her own side of it.

Today, my neighbour,
digging the bank,
beside the brook,
uncovered you.

How small, your bones.

Linda Goulden is a poet based in Derbyshire between a canal and a river. Her pamphlet ‘Speaking parts’ is published by Half Moon Books. Other poems have appeared in magazines, anthologies, among trees at Grinlow and Dove Stone and in the repertoire of Whaley Bridge Choir.

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