Waxing Gibbous. Poetry by Lucy Dixcart


A seismic rumble strikes the solar plexus,
bores through bone. 
From the churn of cello and bass,
strings swarm the cathedral’s skies.
Rosin-fingered, a schoolgirl violinist
watches the boy, his oboe aslant.
These torn pages have an unwritten end,
yet she feels her whole life is here:
a flight of hummingbirds
underwritten by tectonic movements.
Decades later, while children dream,
she and he will hear these notes
electrify a winter evening. Suddenly alight,
they will find their former selves – 
like tumbling back through the wardrobe
to find no time has passed.

Waxing gibbous

Onto carpet, this dazzling
night casts a recumbent doorway. 
Shadow-she glides, crossing the frame.
Blotting her with my body, 
I recline, combining our darks
in liminal space. 
The tapestry above
picks out half-known patterns:
celestial assemblies loosely knit.
Unseen needles prick open every between.

About the contributor

Lucy Dixcart lives in rural Kent. Her poems have been published by Acumen, The Frogmore Press, Fly on the Wall Press, Marble Poetry and Eye Flash Poetry and she was shortlisted for the 2019 Canterbury Festival Poet of the Year competition.

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