created by Lavinia Singer
We delve into folklore and legend as Lavinia explores the stories that have built the history of a city.
A man swings from a bridge.
Water sings under paving stones.
Night falls, and the spirits bless the archways.
Shot her third husband: bullets in the wall.
Listen to the whispers of the house-cracks.
And the soft bell rings in the key of E.
For good health, we lodged in the vales –
gloves rinsed in rosewater,
patchworks of handkerchiefs and laundry lines.
Downtown, it’s ghouls on the gateposts,
days of pea-soup fog and death-ridden fleas.
Uproar is the only music.
Fingernails collect in a churchyard.
Rat-tails splayed like shoelaces.
Who lies beneath the floorboards?
Pigeons, our living grotesques,
at times can rainbow like cathedrals.
A lost river flows, and the people miss it.
Lavinia Singer is a London based poet.