Crows: flicked ink on albino pavements
Scissoring the evening air
Children go home from coloured spinning metal
Beneath a peal of toy-church bells
Orbs of sound, they’d be pale pink and scattered
Across the patient hills, the combed-out fields
And the sycamore trees hold out their hands
Like open palms, as if to say
We’ve tried, we’ve done our best. Make of it what you will.
All poetry deals in paradox. To capture the fraying-points of perception, Sophie Duggan’s work draws on a wide span of influences. These include her medical training (she works as a writer & researcher), the Bucks countryside, and mythic imagery.
In so doing, she hopes to shine a light on some of the less-visited elements of human experience, including in particular the female voice and its power to disrupt.