PoetryAloud

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Paul Mortimer Reads

Sheep Spine

Life and death,
bleached on to this peaty moonscape.

Here it is elemental.

Moor and sun,

a harsh unforgiving beauty.

Knuckle on knuckle.

Each notch etched clear

in its whiteness.

No wool.

No flesh.

No muscle.

Picked clean.

Purity laid bare.

Simplicity of structure in

the chaos of wilderness.

This is where it all ends.

Bone and earth.

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