For a list of the current Friends of the Scottish Review, click here
(for Stanislav Richter)
By candle light you hibernate:
your walls thick as keyboards,
windows like small black eyes,
food stored under snow.
Fingers gloved in fur, moving,
always moving,
inside their feral skin;
the only glow a concert candelabra.
A woman from the village
cleans, cleans, cleans,
with love befitting a god.
She dreams those tender claws
fingering her body;
impregnation, a litter of applause.
Yehudi Menuhin claimed that Richter hibernated in the country throughout winter
Gerard Rochford lives in Aberdeen. He is the Scottish Review’s makar and contributes a poem each month. His recent publications include ‘Failing Light’ and ‘Of Love and Water’
