[Word-ache. Our steps —gravel] and [Overcast; a shadow-less March. Frühling]

Edward Doegar

Word-ache. Our steps —gravel

chords— slow; halt.

Quiet strains,

 

its winter pedal. Wet to the touch,

a fence: dewed wood, moss.

Beyond, the field of black rises

to edge a fainter dark.

 

—Near— noises: almost

human. Cattle

breathing. Relief borders

a domain,

 

herding phrases.

Overcast; a shadow-less March. Frühling

in Bayern. Also.

 

Bleached pine. Argument lingers,

stale hay. Circling the polished

glide of knot, my thumb stumbles

onto rough grain —stiffened corpse

of fur— this fixed plank, material

 

seasoned to part, piece. Genug.

We’re trespassing. Someone owns

this abandoned hut. You belong

here, I want to insist.

Edward Doegar is a poet and editor based in London. He was the commissioning editor for the Poetry Translation Centre between 2019 and 2022 and is a consulting editor at The Rialto. His works include For Now (clinic; 2017), Adaptation (Kelder Press; 2022), a collaboration with the artist Shakeeb Abu Hamdan, and, most recently, sonnets (Broken Sleep Press; 2024).