Category: Poetry
-
2107: Everywhere Poems
The Dry Cleaners that Aren’t Anymore windows open,houses sharing conversation. heat rising,tyres on pavement, a steady whineof a vacuum cleaner — somewhere. “Bought pizza at the dry cleaners. You know, the one busted for drugs years ago,” says my neighbour, “ten minutes they claimed, turned out to be an hour — good pizza though.” “Opening…
-
2008: Everywhere Poems
The Axe in the Cedar Block Dad chopped woodevery day,until he couldn’t. One day,he just walked awayfrom his axe. Left it in a block of cedar, sunk deeperthan his tremor. And there it stayed.For years. None of us strong enoughto free it. Eventuallythe blade rusted,angry-red, and the wooden handle fell off. Everywhere Poems don’t have…
-
1908: A Rum Dream Sestina
A Rum Dream Sestina The tide revealed more beachthan I’d ever seen. Dark, brimmingwaves drinking in sand, and a blackmood of clouds shrouding tearsand chunks of sky. Gusts takingto air our towels. Umbrellas. We two women clamped our knuckled twohands on our straw hats. The beachemptied. Holiday-makers ran, takingshelter in huts roofed with straw brims.A…
-
Finding Your Vocabulary
Written for “What Do You See?” I took the image to a different direction: finding familair things for sale in an antique shop.
-
1708: Everywhere Poems
todayhe carries her suitcases, pots and pans,towels,bedlinen, across the thresholdof a university room. I remembercarrying his. the old exchange.what we carry in,what we carry away. on the drive homeI pulled off the highway, stopped the car. some roads are without our knowing.but not this one. todayI send him a text. you’re in my heart,my darling…
-
1708: The Liturgy
Episode 3 — Liturgy for the Charity Van(for those who sort the belongings of the dead) I. The Van at the Door The charity van pulls up.The driver is kind but level,practised in the art of receivingwhat the living can no longer hold. Fenella watches him load the boxes,each one containing a fragmentof her grandmother’s…
-
The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Teaches Poker(A Lesson in Literal Interpretations) The Old Woman lays the tools on the table: “Right,” she says,“The book said ‘Poker’is a game of fire and nerve.” The cat stares.Its expression suggeststhis may bethe stupidest momentin human history. “You poke the fire,” she explains,“and then I will poke it.We see who flinches…
-
1608: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery South Again — V — 25 July: A Lay-by at Denmark’s Border A Log to Sit On I’d have been happyliving here. He agrees. Though you’d be happierin Sweden,he says. He reads melike a doctorwalkinga step behind. All I needis a forest. A pebble beach.A log…
-
1508: Journal of SenHai
Senryua small bird pausesthe blossoms will not lastbut he trusts the branch. Haikupink breaks on blue aira single bird pins the lightwith unhurried claws. Written for SenHai Saturday: #65 — ©Misky 2006-2026.
-
1508: The Colour of Elsewhere
The Colour of Elsewhere — Poems from the Periphery The Remains of Sweden — IV — 19 July: The Remains of Sweden she is long gone,rain washed her into soil,lifted her into sky. but much of her remains. the brittle snapof pine needles.the heavy latchon the iron gate. her bedroom window.the wrap-round porch. beyond the…
