Caught by the River

again, mouse: a poem by A.K. Blakemore

15th January 2018

three days after christmas
and in the torpor of an ethical snowfall
you search for faces
in the windows –

the impression is
of a loose drabness, not
brights, nor unsnarled
fuchsia hair elastics. you never even
learnt to keep a plant let
alone a beautiful white hand.

there were sometimes
ice-cream sunsets, moments
of beauty wrought
to trap

sullen mouse-heart.
rarer, these
than the paintings in hotel foyers
conspire to imply.


A. K. Blakemore was born in London in 1991. Twice named a Foyle Young Poet of the Year, her work has been widely published and anthologised, appearing in journals including Poetry London, Poetry Review and Ambit. Her debut collection, Humbert Summer, appeared in 2015 and was awarded the Melita Hume Prize. Her second collection, Fondue, will be published by Offord Road Books in 2018.

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