Zoë Skoulding Poems

Between the buildings
trees reach down
to languages
of soil and worms,
...

the wind
tower
could be
a pack
...

The cathedral of sand is a storm
trickling through fingers, loose between roots,
or a single grit in the eye.
...

The wall is who we are and they are not and
farther in the boundaries collapse in a rush of
security as cells multiply and break through stone
translucent grit cracks the skin open to the elements
...

Our feet drag with the effort of
holding it all up. Or is this

weight the way it holds us
down? It begins with an echo,
...

all defences rise in a few straight lines
all sprung with traps
a curtain tower edging into weather
foundations in rock
the walls run with drops of green
...

as the vein runs
under fragile reconstructions
of what was holding us together
the river made of time and water
...

In the flick of an eye
the room shrinks to a double pulse
and you recognise half of everything
...

I walked in the garden
under planets and streetlights
between streetlight and
...

a wave on gut strings
changes phase at each
slam into polished stone
as skaters echo in the
...