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Fleur Adcock
Fleur Adcock
(1934 / Auckland)
Comments about Fleur Adcock
Bat Soup
But it's diluted with sky, not water,
the aerial plankton on which they sup.
Our solitary pipistrelle flickers
over her chosen suburban quarter,
echo-locating, to siphon it up.
It nourishes birds as well as bats -
high-flyers that feed on the wing,
swifts, house-martins - this floating gruel
of hymenoptera, midges and gnats,
Looking desperately for a Fleur Adcock poem about a woman at her door turning her key to her own home. I heard it recited by David Whyte and cannot find it. Can you help? Thank you, Nanci
Read a fantastic poem by Fleur Adcock: Knife-play.
The first reading is interesting but by the time you have read it a few times it grips you with a subtle charm.
Read a fantastic poem by Fleur Adcock: Knife-play.
The first reading is interesting but by the time you have read it a few times it grips you with a subtle charm.