Love’s Progress
by and published in Edition Four of Pomegranate
Ceremonially, Love finds her place at the celebration table
and sucks a cherry, with the flick of a sycamore leaf over her eye
as if to say, I’ve travelled to the corners and crescents
of the earth in nature’s own gilded vein, yet still
I dine with you,
my disciples.
Her skin softens into foie gras
and her hair naturally blows in the helicopter wind
of her own centuries of honourable flights.
She will dine with you, but you will drink more.
You know you will never quite get it right,
never quite know how to follow, when to laugh.
Love is slightly weary from the train,
the dust on her sleeve as grey as your restraint.
Sophie Yeo
Sophie Yeo is an eighteen-year-old girl who’s not quite decided yet whether to be English or Welsh. She has twice been one of the Foyle commended poets, and next year she hopes to go to university to inevitably write lots of essays. She likes Evelyn Waugh, Cicero, the famous speech in “The Merchant of Venice” and trying to memorize lots of facts about Richard III. One day, she hopes to own a vineyard in the Val-de-Loire.