Three poems by Linda Black
Dancing Can be done at any time, mathematically speaking. A child in the front row, she sees the Prince’s laddered tights. This opens up and widens her. In her grandparent’s house, at the end of a terrace, up a hill you get to through Gledhow Valley Woods, next to a parade where the green-grocer has straw on the floor, she sees an advert on … Continue reading Three poems by Linda Black