All evening, she circled the pool of light and conversation. I watched her, or at least, I noticed her, from time to time, darting, sparkling. She bubbled like prosecco bubbles. She dragonflied around the room, one moment here, one moment there, a flash of something, an energy – taking her prey so swiftly that it almost felt like love.
I’m hosting dVerse tonight, and we’re looking at animal verbs.
All those years I spent looking upwards, seeking out the stars. Searching for them. I grew old, not realising stars were blooming all around me.
I could have gathered them, held them like a child holds a smooth stone, piled them in buckets. i could have marvelled at them, but I chose to chase the lights that were so far away –
I wonder now if they were ever stars?
Mish is hosting at dVerse tonight, and gives us some amazing pictures from surreal photographer Erik Johansson to inspire ekphrastic poems. Do check this out – the pictures are fantastic and I think they will generate some great poems.
Hush now, my child, and listen to the dark: it’s soft as velvet, soft as midnight fur. We’re safe here, curled in our small ark. The beetle’s scurry, and the earthworm’s shirr promise us supper. We’ll eat well tonight – the crunch of shell, the slip of skin on tongue. Your teeth are made to snap and bite and you’re a mighty hunter, though you’re young and the dark knows you, like a mother does and nurtures you. What is there you could need? Up there, the world is bright, and chime and buzz, down here is quiet and comfort, sleep and feed. Your teeth are sharp, like tiny crescent moons: you are night’s baby, cradled and cocooned.
For Kim at dVerse: a poem about an animal that makes a home for itself. I went for a sonnet about moles. Don’t ask me why.
If you like this poem, you might be interested in my first chapbook, The Crow Gods, available from Sidhe Press. The launch is this Friday – tickets are free from Eventbrite.
Looking back, I was never there – not in that room, that bed, that body. I was not lost. I was too heavy – I was sunk down in the dark, where the light runs slow. Blue shafts of sunlight filtering down – my eyelids barely touched – my skin too heavy, all my bones, too heavy. I was not lost, just deep, sleeping my dark sleep, dreaming my dark dreams.
For Merril at dVerse, who gives us a list of podcast titles, and asks us to incorporate two of them into a poem. Here’s the list:
Orion strides across the sky, chasing a golden moon. His children are out hunting – owl holds still, listening: the world a syncope of heartbeats; fox slinks smoothly through a pewter world overlaid with multi-coloured stinks and weasel dreams of nut-plump fieldmice – all the world is glimmering and rustling, feasting before the winter starves us all.