Poetry

Olivia Byard: Three Poems

Digbeth Bistro (Stow-in-the-Wold)   I’m choosing chorizo salad and the menu says cheerily, “we’re in Digbeth Street— so-called because in the Civil War blood here ran so deep ducks swam in it— hence duck-bath, dig-beth.”   And where the ducks swam, now not a drop, or sign—except, an olde-world menu-plaque for top organic food. I order my food, pinch the skin on my arms, wonder exactly how much blood— but among chintz and teapots, history’s not in the mood.   Olivia Byard         Your Language   I turn into the morning’s light-shafted hall, gold beneath its clerestory—…

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