Light on a snow scene

Hattie Atkins

Underfoot and overhead, stillness stops the midnight sun, its carcass bleeding across the horizon.

Hold

Your Gaze And Crane Into The Light

In this small word, fishermen freeze Don’t trust that yellow thread that refuses to reach through time Years get caught in a fisherman’s net Painted breath holding back the ice-grey sky; their faces going foggy with it. In time, there is a blending: bodies reach flat into the long, old landscape Now, the sun ’ s hungry mouth enters through the gallery’s high windows Reflections freeze the snow scene again and again, for light in this world develops like a thing in a dark room.

Put out your eyes and make torches of them