‘Ophelia’ by Peter Kenny

Ophelia You write your name on water and then you sink. A wet halo shrinks around your face and you sink lips last. Ophelia why didn’t you float like the others? Why didn’t you drift downstream with a glut of Pre-Raphaelite flowers? I’m terrified that you’ve stopped breathing or that you gulp the dim, death-gladdening murk, where everything’s refracted bending the sticks and searching arms. … Continue reading ‘Ophelia’ by Peter Kenny