Given
Melinda Smith / Poetry

Given

Christmas is in the air. You are given into my hands out of quietest, loneliest lands. My trembling is all my prayer. “Five Days Old” – Francis Webb Given Poolside baby showers herald the summer pregnancies. Sweat caresses swollen knees; mothers tally labour hours; giftwrap is everywhere. Christmas is in the air. But by the … Continue reading

Mimic
Anne Walsh / Poetry

Mimic

The day tries to be                    as beautiful as you                                       How she mimics your eyes in the dawn                    How she dresses the wind in your soft T shirt How she laughs sideways at me                                                                               when I don’t hear what she says How she paints her doves with the same colour wingtips                                       How she escapes me © … Continue reading

Wolf Mountain
Anne Walsh

Wolf Mountain

I die every second                  in everyday places you catch                                   the light in my throat and lemon it so I can’t speak easy                  Make it moon light on the river of my chest                  Make it sing long as morning                                    on the slow spines of trees                                                                        green as Sunday school for lovers                   oh! I die many … Continue reading

Intact
Anne Walsh / Poetry

Intact

Visible in the wild wreck I am is the empire I was                                      My ruin is the most beautiful architecture                    Wreckage has made me dervish, an astonishing ravaged split log angel In the brown of my eyes pulled up, the Spanish doubloons                     of the autumn squash yellow of debris,                                                              the shock of stained glass intact after … Continue reading