Margaret’s Moon - by
After she died, I swear the sky
/ Had the most beautiful of all sunsets,
/ A blush of pink, then red, a glass…
death
In Memoriam 1971 - by
Certain women. And some young boys.
/ Women with some uncertainties
/ but something they knew about
/ that made them need to say something.
/ Two of…
In Days of Darkness - by
Two days before your death, you wrote / There is not much to report from here.
Reelig - by
I do not know
/ Who sleeps here
/ Beneath this mound before me
/ Under the skies of Reelig
/ Below the Fraser pines
/
/ But a Laird…
As Time Draws Near - by
As time draws near
/ the end of our days
/ and the plates fall
/
/ away from our knees,
/ let us not be…
Timor mortis conturbat me - by
Will it give me six months warning
/ Or come when least expected?
/ Will I trip over it one morning
/ And find…
That’s Life - by
Far from the scent of the crocus
/ And the pavanne of Scottish daffodils
/ A loud crash was heard in Princes Street.
/ Safe from…
Listening for Lost People - by
Spring heat, a cherry / tree’s fresh bronze leaves fan out and gleam – to / converse with shades, yourself…
grave dust - by
The night I got grave dust on my hands after dusting off my mother’s grave / I was lent a…
The Afternoon Shift Are Leaving the Port Talbot Steelworks - by
The machines don’t / stop, night or day, although, one by one, / the anonymous men are slipping away.
This Life - by
Each life echoing, acting out these myths: / going into darkness, re-emerging, wounds / and griefs healed over.
/ …
Night Fishing - by
i.m. Les Powici
/
/ Britten’s Pond, a July dusk
/ mayflies hazing the flat, brown water
/ as the day’s last rooks flowed into the trees
/ and…