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Haworth Hodgkinson

Haworth Hodgkinson

Poetry 2007–2017

Poetry 2001–2006

Poetry 1996–2000

Poetry 1982–1995

© Haworth Hodgkinson 2006–2017


Haworth Hodgkinson


The girl in the flat downstairs
likes to bathe in moonwater.
She captures the moon's
monthly full reflection
in a bowl of water
left overnight on the balcony,
bottles it and adds a few drops
to her bath each morning.

There's a girl in the block across the close
prefers her moonbath live.
Once a month she hauls a tub
across the drying green
and positions it to catch the moon.
Faces gather at dark windows,
keen to glimpse the full sparkle
of her silver skin.

But the girl I go to see every month
lives in a shrouded basement,
won't go out in the moonlight
and keeps her bathing habits private.
Sometimes I think there's a moon
that shines full and deep inside her
but her skin is thick as estuary fog
and the gleam is lost within.


Written 2009
Revised 2010

Published in Pushing Out the Boat Issue 12, 2013
(Pushing Out the Boat)

Pushing Out the Boat 12

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