Selima Hill Poems

Deep in the scented house,
a herring merchant
is parting his wife's buttocks
with cold hands;
...

A high-pitched woman's voice is shouting Basil!
and then a spotty dog comes whizzing past;

and then a little ball of dried-up seaweed
comes rolling and hopping casually along
...

His breathing had always been bad —
there was something wrong with his tubes —
so he often went out to the Art Shed:
...