Poems

The curtains stay shut, blocking
the blackbirds’ cheerful coupling. 
The quiet clock faces the wall.
There is shame in the envy of birds.

She buys new shoes with silent soles,
a dress with side zips, cheaper underwear.
Black pens mark the disappointment
of frequent cancellations.

The hotel charges extra for a smaller room,
its digital singleness pushing dreams into walls.
There is no one here to remind her
to switch the light out.

She returns to find the house did not wait up,
its dark windows outnumber her
reflecting back an unfamiliar face
as she let herself in.

First published in New Contexts 3 2022

Letting herself inRead More

Our grannies have packed up and gone away.
They took their biscuit tins and gooseberry jam,
soaked up a life of spills in cardigans,
slid down the backs of armchairs with tea-trays.
They wrapped up china rabbits, wound the clocks,
left their dead husbands’ dark brown rooms untouched,
laid out the porcelain to gather dust,
tied ribbons round the unused envelopes.
They kept their secrets tight as recipes
for oxtail soup and cherry almond cake.
They cleared up lives which others failed to make,
watched purple skin grow thin as dried out leaves.

But there’s our Kath, all smiles, with a cigar,
her lips around the cherry from her drink.
Here’s Mary on her new pink Vespa bike,
then waving from a mountain gondola.
She lifts her ski poles high into the air
her alpine beret spilling golden hair.

First published in Orbis 199 Spring 22

Gone grannyRead More

In cases where there is uncertainty
all will come to light.

With furled wing, with clear wing
with dusky, rosy under-wing
all come to light.

Even in the midst of flurry
all will come to light.

Flying from the dusk, flying in the night,
High flyer, June Flyer
all come to light.

Even when obscurely marked
all will come to light.

Fringes scalloped, pinkish flush,
marbled, feathered, Cinnabar
all come to light.

When the memory deceives
all will come to light.

Alchymist, Festoon, Vapourer,
Brocade and Coronet
all come to light.

Even now when lost in dust
all will come to light.

First published in Reach Poetry January 2021

All come to lightRead More

(April 2020)

I am trying to get away
from myself
but there is nowhere to hide.

Into the silence come voices,
announcing they are working,
night and day.

I believe them.
They are busy
losing themselves in screens.

We are all unmeeting ourselves.

In the morning shadows of flags
at half-mast fall
on empty city squares.

In country lanes
muscular hares pause.
At night a pink moon rises.

First published online February 2021 https://poetryandcovid.com/

Night and dayRead More