A couple of poems
8 June 2019
I haven’t written much poetry recently, but here are a couple:
In February’s childhood, splinters of rain
spent themselves on pillaging the afternoon;
and so shambling onstage as the opening band for dusk,
from within the green room shoreline of hidden edges,
came lavender billows of continental cumulonimbus.
Across a fresco of bleached blue, aircraft threw their
vapour trails of peach and apricot, tailing off into gibberish
Morse, unzipping the sky, opening the way for the traveller
whose passport is a day’s meaningful work.
I wrote you a love letter in necklace form,
Someone else’s thoughts in lieu of words.
And you wrote back in the form of
a seed-head blanket, wind-rippled,
pulsing electrically in a world platinum with the bellies
of leaves that sussurate like clouds of anxious fish;
of ozone’s prophetic redolence;
of Boot’s Folly, a sentinel who sees rocks stacks
claw at Derwent Edge like grappling hooks
looking to expedite geological time;
of rhododendrons, an argument between purple and pink
that slashes like the strokes of a child’s paintbrush;
of a cottonwood fluff carpet, the desiccated husks of clouds
or the spent souls of wishes.