A haunting poem in which a mysterious backstory of private loss is bound with nature in a thickening mist and an absence of birds
Photograph: Russell Cheyne/ReutersPhotograph: Russell Cheyne/Reuterstentative for what we knowthe blank page its facsimile.Just now, I glimpsed her facecloser, becomes introvert.and all the draughts she made.perspective, when necklets of mistMist primarily looks inwards, into a room, and into the state of mind of a couple sitting by a view-less window.
We are told few details about the “story” at the heart of the poem. The second verse comes the nearest to disclosure, and does so with a palpable flinch: “Just now, I glimpsed her face / as it was, in your glance, / but dared not look again.” These are brilliantly suggestive lines. We learn from the next verse that, whoever has so painfully vanished, she had the energy to make plentiful “draughts”.