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Simon Williams (featured poet for issue 15)

AVOCET STATUE

Chisel beak, the slightest tool,
works the proto-stone, laid down
too recently to take impression.

The bird can feel the sandworm in the mud bed,
knows how to free it from geology,
knows where to make the next incision.

It works long hours with all its artisans,
while all the time, in black and white,
it's icon, it's public artefact.

BY EXTENSION

If Big Bang is Moment of Conception
and cells are galaxies
divided by two, four, eight
in the first three femtoseconds of existence,
if Cassiopeia is a small of the back,
the Horse Nebula a brain
the Milky Way a freckled shoulder,
the spiral arm a Karu-spiral tattooed arm,

then somewhere in a lactocyte,
on the left nipple of the Great She Universe,
on an electron among quadrillions,
(never quite certain where they are)
are two guillemots,
a rugby scrum from Swanage,
a small green frog with distracting red eyes
and all the poets who have used the word
'myriad'.

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