there is nothing at Niagara
acid burns along the river
the strawberries bloom under the night
when leaves turn towards the sun
and the day star shoots across the water,
there is nothing at Niagara
and my hands are empty
neither straw nor cornflower
not the jet black of crow and raven
the grounds are empty at Niagara
and there is only wind and the soft light pattern
of mist on skin.
Source: Abraxas no. 42/43, 1997
Visit Andrea Moorhead’s Goodreads page for some of her books in French and English, including her book Niagara
About Andrea Moorhead:
I continue to publish poetry in French and consider this work to be essential. My French work is quite different in tone and direction from my English work; it represents, perhaps, the natural extension of my concerns with the natural world and its degradation from multiple causes. I also continue to work with photography, and think of it as an overlapping aspect of my exploration of abstraction and tangential realities.
View another of Moorhead ‘s poems, Niagara weeps, on this website
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