New poem by Andrew Darlington “She Bringeth Good Tiding, She Telleth No Lies”

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She Bringeth Good Tiding, She Telleth No Lies

I cage a silver cuckoo in my bedroom
and release it into moonlight every night,
it gathers gifts for me upon its return,
Monday, a straw plucked from sleeping grain,
Tuesday, an emerald eye from an orphaned doll,
Wednesday, the skewered brain of a warted toad,
Thursday, the scent of pomegranate on a single seed,
Friday, the lock of a child’s golden hair drawn from
a faded photograph of myself as a four-year-old,
for it knows I have ink stains on my heart,
Saturday, the ruby ring my mother purchased from
a Whitefriargate antiques and curios emporium
pretending it to be a gift from a secret lover,
and on Sunday it brings the silver key
to release me from my own cage

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