by LJ Ireton

At this hour, the bluebells sink into the background blue of shipwrecks.
The dead rest under tables,
silent,
everywhere low is stone.
Lichen lies draped, almost graceful,
over the old graves —
Charlotte’s own white wedding veil hung yards away,
The clock is fixed, but behind its moonlight face
flock the shadow congregation
of wings.

Every minute they cry,
so that you look up,
up –
the sky of the sleepers
is screaming alive;
raucous with cemetery rooks
discordant, glorious
blurring
over Charlottes’s unmoving mourning lace;
black on a porcelain bust.

These tangled phantoms fly thick and fearless,
urgent, ebony in the breathing night,
over your head;
The moment you dwell on death,
their lungs wail a life immediate.

LJ is a vegan poet and a bookseller from London. She has a 1st Class B.A. Honours in English Language and Literature from The University of Liverpool. Her debut poetry collection, Lessons from the Sky, was published by Ellipsis Imprints in 2024, followed by Interlude in February 2025 with Haywood Books. Her poetry features in the printed anthologies Spectrum: Poetry Celebrating Identity by Renard Press, 2022, Building Bridges, Renard Press 2024 and You’re Never Too Much, Macmillan 2025. Unclaimed, her digital microchapbook was published by Whittle Press in February 2026. Her poems have been published by over forty journals both in print and online and featured on the BBC World Service Bookclub.