What the Insects Told Us
by and published in Edition Five of Pomegranate
What has not altered, where the bridge fell – hard to say.
The rest is all rust and tendril.
In the valley beneath he treads carefully
in morning shoes.
He speaks his mother tongue.
From the undergrowth, sapient hordes
translate and bury the words
into the soil.
We do not know what messages he sends,
as sunlight pickles the upper reaches
and edges of the briar.
We only know that he keeps wild violets
in his pocket
and that the bridge was too weak, in the end.
Rachael Lloyd
Rachael lloyd is 27 and has been working at foyles Bookshop for six years, after completing a degree in Philosophy. Her poem Succulent was chosen by the Guardian Poetry Workshop in 2005. She has been writing poetry for as long as she can remember.