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By Sharon Black

 liken it to liquor
          fire across a headstone
blinking coarsely   a shore of sand
                  or an arrow licking the flesh 
                              Consider its flight   its sure progression 
    over towns and fields its spread 
                 along the river’s bend 
pinning land in place
           Let’s say    it is provost     of the cemetery’s dead
                                                all those sleeping    souls
    a crust read from a high point 
                             a sacred scroll one hundred thousand 
                                                     miles in length   unravelling

This poem won the National Poetry Library’s 70-Poet Challenge in 2024 and was performed live by the poet in the Purcell Room, as part of the London literature Festival, on 26th October 2024.

Sharon Black is from Glasgow and lives in a remote valley of the Cévennes mountains in France. She won The London Magazine Poetry Prizes 2019 and 2018. She has published four full collections of poetry and a pamphlet. Her latest collections are The Last Woman Born on the Island (Vagabond Voices, 2022), exploring Scotland’s culture and heritage, and The Red House (Drunk Muse, 2022), set in her adopted homeland. She is editor of Pindrop Press.