1964 - by
Under the gritted lid of winter
/ each ice-puddle’s broken plate
/ cracked to a star. The morning
/ assembling itself into black and white, the…
memory
Sphagnum Moss - by
Sphagnum moss remembers. It recalls
/ the touchdown of each lark that tumbles
/ down upon its surface, the slightness of that weight
/ recorded…
Be the first to like this - by
kicking pine cones down the street
/ climbing the backyard cherry tree
/ lying in new sheets
/ waking in darkness waking to snow
/ how…
from Finding My Grandparents In the Peloponnese - by
x
/
/ On one face, the cistern built by the Turks,
/ now holding only dust and darkness
/ below its stone vault, where Monemvasía’s
/
/ rocky…
Music, When Soft Voices Die - by
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
/ Are heap’d for the belovèd’s bed;
/ And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
/ Love itself…
Fife Child in the Fifties - by
They’ve long demolished the side-street by the Links
/ That set me journeying when I was six or so:
/ In my grandmother’s room…
Màthair - by
Bha sinn a’coimhead nan rionnag
mus do thionndaidh sinn a-steach leis na coin,
is thuirt thu gum bu mhithich dhut
Hedge Sparrows - by
You don’t see many hedges these days, and the hedges you do see
they’re not that thorny, it’s a shame, and when I say a hedge
I’m not talking about a row of twigs between two lines of rusty
barbed wire, or more likely just a big prairie where there were
whole cities of hedges…
‘My Belarus with cornflowers blooming . . .’ - by
My Belarus with cornflowers blooming,
/ my land of camomile!
/ I’m no ‘new Belarusian’ woman,
/ I cling to ‘older’ style.
/ Not by broad path, but…
On a Grey Morning - by
On a grey morning
/ I walk the streets downtown,
/ the fog cuts into my burning eyes,
/ it cuts into my throat,
/ and is cold…
كُلُّ شيء … - by
كلُّ شيءٍ في مكانِهِ
/ مِرآتُكِ
/ أحجارُكِ
/ آنيةُ الطيبِ
/ حنَّاءٌ جافٌّ لأجلِ عيدٍ سيأتي
/ مَقعَدٌ خالٍ،
/ قميصُ الصَّيفِ الماضي
/ رائِحَتُكِ فوق َ الوسادةِ
/ ما تَرَكَتْهُ شَفتاكِ
/ من طعمِ قُبلةِ اليومِ…
Caracas - by
The buildings are so high
/ nothing can be seen now of my childhood.
/ I’ve lost my patio with its lazy clouds
/ where the…