June 2026
Their soft ears are tied to all the branches
unfolding velvety and pink into magnolias.
It’s April. I have persuaded her
out into the garden. It's
fine, I say.
Anxiety scarfs her. Tight
fingers press her eyes into my arm -
But can’t you see the rabbits? And yes, I see.
Buds, spring buds, of glossy, skinless flesh.
Harriet Truscott
Harriet Truscott is a writer and editor living on the edge of the Fens. She is a member of the King's Place (Illicit) Poets group. Some of her recent work appears in Poetry Wales, Magma and Butcher's Dog. She tweets at @HMTruscott.
More work by Harriet Truscott
1968 - 2026
Tel: 028 7126 6946
Email: hueditor@theverbal.co
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