Monday, 26 February 2018

A poem by Claire Walker

Red Plans her Escape

An axe fells the forest a little more each day.
She knows the sadness of this:
The branches that will miss facing sky;
leaves cut down before they have a chance to fall.

And yet there is the thrill of dark
fear that blazes through her.
Every sawn trunk is a notch on an escape plan,
each new stump a hop-scotch pad to freedom.

Yes, she knows the sadness:
That wood will be planed from natural shape,
made to hold the weight of a roof.
But for now there is space – all this space –
to feel the sun and test new paths.

Claire Walker's poetry has been published in magazines, anthologies and webzines including The Interpreter's House, Prole, Ink Sweat and Tears, Amaryllis, Clear Poetry, The Poetry Shed, and The Chronicles of Eve. She is a Reader for Three Drops Press, and Co-Editor of Atrium poetry webzine. She has two pamphlets published by V. Press - The Girl Who Grew Into a Crocodile (2015), and Somewhere Between Rose and Black (2017).


  1. The perfect poem for a Monday, full of hope and eagerness.

  2. I really enjoyed this, Claire. There is a wonderful ambivalence about trees and logging, isn't there?