3 poems by Lynn Valentine

ALONE IN IONA CATHEDRAL

I thought I felt his breath there,
an opening
in my palms, while tourists knelt outside
bothering graves.

Was it just a dance of wind through
an old worn door,
a chance of sunlight and shadow as I
prayed?

Since then I’ve been watchful, quoted
half-forgotten
Sunday school blessings, primed
myself for signs:

dark skies smoking blood in a place
far away,
the sea salting claims on what’s mine. 

>

THESE WORDS ARE MY SHARDS

    Light Winter Bruise Tides Palms Song
    Winter Bruise Tides Palms Song Light
    Bruise Tides Palms Song Light Winter
    Tides Palms Song Light Winter Bruise
    Palms Song Light Winter Bruise Tides
    Song Light Winter Bruise Tides Palms

North Keening Kite Moon Bones Muscle
Keening Kite Moon Bones Muscle North
Kite Moon Bones Muscle North Keening
Moon Bones Muscle North Keening Kite
Bones Muscle North Keening Kite Moon
Muscle North Keening Kite Moon Bones

          Snow Rich Salt Squabble Red Turn
          Rich Salt Squabble Red Turn Snow
          Salt Squabble Red Turn Snow Rich
          Squabble Red Turn Snow Rich Salt
          Red Turn Snow Rich Salt Squabble
          Turn Snow Rich Salt Squabble Red

                                                              North

About the contributor

Lynn Valentine is from the Scottish Highlands. She won a place on the Cinnamon Press mentoring scheme for 2020 with a view to organising her first poetry collection. Her work appears in Ink Sweat and Tears, FWS anthologies, Scottish Poetry Library blog. She has won and been placed in competitions including Glasgow Women’s Library Dragon’s Pen Award, Neil Gunn competition, Nitrogen House flash fiction competition.

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