Two Poems by Camellia Stafford

Riversley

The weeping willow drizzles
chartreuse into the River Anker,
collecting in an olivine pool,
reflected in the gaze of my lament.

I emerge from the twilit tunnel
of neon squiggles under the bridge.
The sky’s a periwinkle agate slice
the sun sorts and splits its rays on.

Citrine cascades the riverbank.
From my ears, AirPods and
narcissi earrings dangle.

Frailest crocus, amethyst star, self-set
in the bark of an ash tree!
Your leaves are malachite rebels,
striped stragglers. Little crocus,
how did you end up here?

Up and down these tree-weaving paths,
I’ve sung out the seasons’ hearts.
Magnolia goblets, sakura for spring,
a Christmas tree field in autumn…

I walk through Riversley unseen,
another daffodil with a turning head
or a malachite rebel set in the ash.

Ride or Die

I’ve been struck powerless,
but there are times
I’ve known my power—

—a depth of feeling—

still, I hold I have not felt my love alone,
despite absence,
cold silence, the brutal word—

I am powerless
as powerless as I was made,
as night-blooming jasmine picked to distil,
as ashes thrown—

it’s here, my sadness,
carried on the breeze
of everything I understand
and do not—

a heart distilled,
the powerlessness of love—

the guttural snarl of a bike’s engine
riding by on quietest nights—

Camellia Stafford lives in Warwickshire and works in a museum. Her poems have
appeared in Poetry Review, Anthropocene, Under the Radar, various Emma Press
anthologies, and Salt’s Best British Poetry. Her first poetry collection, Letters to the Sky,
is published by Salt.