Stream rising from the hot springs of the Night
Pools of healing waters and roman baths
Like the scenes of young boys as Bacchus hanging on my Lambeth wall,
And maps of the Ligurian coast, a Vatican for the senses.
The oval shadow of my jewellery box hits the corners of shadows and makes them
Osiris offers Isis a bunch of water lilies, still trailing with moss
It almost seems as though
she might prefer the clementine ambers of a necklace
hanging off her nose
The single bulb sheathed by a tea stained lampshade swing to and fro
In the late September heat of an attic room a while ago.
Tamsyn Chandler is a London based poet and artist. They like to write about blue things and the ocean.