Friday, 10 September 2021

Poems, Summer 2021

On Grass

Tall, swampy routes

Into the night, and the after, 

Pleasant dawns

In the bones, in the troughs, 

Platitudes wrung out

Dripping on to grass, 

On the concrete, 

On to grass


*


The golden light

The early chill

Bites me

Into this heavy space

Of bones resting, pouring gaze, 

The soft ache

Of knowing 

On this grass: awake

 




_____________________________





A Serbian Woman


She is pure and authentic

In her artifice

Performative

As a church gathering 


She shaves her legs

Dyes any greys

Fills lips and breasts

To the painful side of bursting 


She must purr and gesture

At the table outside

With her cigarette and Nescafe

Filtering through afternoons 


She must hold herself

As an offering 

Of strength


She must work hard

For pennies

As nurse, midwife, 

Vase

She must cook and

Pickle in the summer

Store jars,

Dip bread in the juice

Leftover from sliced tomato 


She must drive through

Busy polluted streets

And care for her mother

Her father

Her relatives who emigrated


She must cry

When it is sad, when it is time, 

And rejoice

Always

In the milestones of others 


She must accept men’s attention 

Without encouraging it 

She must be a loyal friend 

And celebrate the appropriate Saint’s Days


She is scorched diamond

Woeful warrior

Ground-down mistress

Deep-set mound






_____________________________





Remember we are always beginning


Peaceful waiting 

Humble certainty

Ticking stillness

In all that has not yet unspooled


Benevolent forces

Draw strings and shapes

In heavenly sequences

And we are yet to know 

Their intricate patterns

And how they fit

On to our skin 

And nestle

In to our lives


Joy brings

A lightness of mist

In the morning 

Purging the night’s dreams

Of torture and clenched teeth

Some tension always

Made concrete on the pillow


A way with words

Stirs the right ones up 

In a bath of petals

And vine leaves 

In the fragrant mulch

Of all that has been 

We splash against the surface

Of our new beginnings


Light a candle

For those not present 

Let the tiny flame

Conjure life







_____________________________





Charm


My charm is that I’m genuine

My charm is that

My tongue is loose and free

Sometimes I act up 

Play the role

Of the disagreer

I enjoy arguing

It adds a fire

I like rubbing up against 

Hard surfaces

I like to spark 

To smell smoke

To let things die in ember





_____________________________






To smell a rose


Taut as the string 

Of a violin 


Skirting the edge:

Insect feet

Dew

Hexagonal cells


With tightrope precision

The scent rings out 

An orchestra

Of powder blossom eggshell apple 


An incantation,

Its rapture

Wraps us

In voluptuous 

Presence







_____________________________





It is not too late, it is never too late


Oh, humility

When you embody 

All that galls you 

Like the blackest tar 

Left bled in the ground

Sodden down and heavy 

Heavy with it 


Repelled by beauty:

Oh, turn me into a villain already

Easier that 

Than to change
















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