Dikt på en fredag.

Eclipse of the Moon

Whose shadow’s that?

Who walked in the evening
at his own ghost’s back?

Who trod in the circle,
left a toe-print on the frozen pond?

Who looked in the mirror
and clouded the glass?

Who snatched the white moth
in his closed fist?

Who drowned
reaching for the coin?

Fra Collected Poems av Gillian Clarke.

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