POEM Neal Alexander

NWR Issue 116


And what if a river were running in the trees
spreading its fingers among stones and leaves,
where branches float like a language on the flood
and the tide turns over in the salt-licked marsh

as a mind that follows a falling rate of interest
might lose itself in the hush of a half-lit market
looking up to see a flying figure, not flying
but falling down the mirrored sides of a column of ash

Neal Alexander’s poems have previously appeared in [I;Poetry Wales] and Planet. As a literary critic, he has published widely on modern and contemporary literature from Britain and Ireland, including a monograph on the poet Ciaran Carson and the edited collections Poetry & Geography and Regional Modernisms.

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