Vox Populi
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Pascale Petit: Roebuck
(Poem beginning with a line by Lucie Brock-Broido)
Tell me there is a meadow, afterwards,
that the roebuck will come
to the top of my garden,
that the window will cut me
with glass blades
of dewy hooves.
That I’ll lay out my doe mask,
my necklace of icicles,
onto the deep windowsill.
Tell me the buck will be there
among nettles and briar, his mouth
panting, his lungs clear.
That his legs won’t tangle
in the electric wire
around my tower.
That if he can’t find his way
back into the before,
his horns jewelled
with thorns and flowers
might grow into a tall grove.
Tell me that even in my solitude,
my altar goods laid out
to the god of woods,
that this red buck
against the steep viridian field
will sprout a ladder between his tines
that I can climb.
That his antlers will be strong
as my spine, that I will scale
the rungs of myself
out onto the clouded
chancel of the sky, my body
slick as a newborn fawn.
Copyright 2024 Pascale Petit. First published in New Humanist.
Pascale Petit was born in Paris and lives in Cornwall, UK. She is of French, Welsh, and Indian heritage. Her eighth collection of poetry, Tiger Girl (Bloodaxe, 2020), was shortlisted for the Forward Prize and for Wales Book of the Year. Her seventh, Mama Amazonica (Bloodaxe, 2017), won the inaugural Laurel Prize and the RSL Ondaatje Prize. Her debut novel, My Hummingbird Father, is due from Salt in 2024 and her ninth collection, Beast, from Bloodaxe in 2025.
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I am delighted to dive into Pascale Petit’s magical world.
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As am I.
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Lovely, Pascal! Lifted the heart x
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Pascal:
Pure epiphanal magic this day! By these forests and ladders of the hart, rungs of self and chancel of the sky—the backward birth of death as it goes. We shall never end, ever shine like a star in heaven.
Pascal!
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Beautiful, Sean. Thank you.
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Thank you Sean! For your poem answer, the poem was prompted by a real roebuck visit during lockdown
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What a delight and astonishment, to be in the presence of this mind. Reading this, early this morning, first poem of the day—thank you, VP.
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Yes, Pascale’s poems are a marvel of imagination.
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Yes, first one of the day. Sept up
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Thank you Maura 🦌
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