Monday, 24 February 2014

A poem by Stephen Boyce


Painted Lady

Ironic that this butterfly should look 
so moth-eaten, poor raggedy creature

like a scrap of frail lace or cutwork 
from an antique dress, rediscovered 

in a cobwebbed cupboard, tattered, 
fluttering as it sieves the feeble breeze,

and all that I can do, among blood-red 
strawberries and dry clods, is keep 

the cat away whose slightest touch 
would turn these faded wings to dust.



Stephen Boyce is a prize-winning poet and has been published widely in magazines, anthologies and online. His collection Desire Lines (Arrowhead Press 2010) was described by Katherine Gallagher as “intelligent, sophisticated, formally assured… a truly exciting new voice”.  The Sisyphus Dog will be published by Worple Press in 2014. www.stephenboycepoetry.com

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