The fine folks at the Tandem Collective l have published a zine called RISE alongside the Oxford Climate Society, and two of my poems are in it! Both of them are about animals that were near my house at some point, wherever that house was. The poems are below:
From where the road gives out above the bay
I can see highway, windmills to the east,
The castaway remains of Highway One
Given up to the pheasants, the engulfing tide.
One year we saw a seal there, Chris and I
And Brie, under the broken bridge; looking confused
At how it could have swum up from the bay,
Made landing in the icy marsh. To think
a journey would breed consequence. But no.
The way you wake at the engine’s glitchy tick
and wonder just how far you went that day,
the radio still on until you pull
the door. The seal, though, anyways, aloof,
surveying its decision, or else us;
confusing vehicle with exit plan. To think
we’ll find ourselves like that one day: the ice
ahead not broken up, the waters pushing back
against the commerce of the day’s commute
and us just sitting there agape, on ice,
like some dumb animal. twenty miles off;
the windmills sliced the isthmus, Amherst gleamed
like a faraway desert, or the sea.
song for the song of the rose hill kite
there have been other stories and better ones
but here goes: someday soon the Thames
will yawn and stretch and roll right out of bed,
sweep swimmers up from Longbridges to here,
and all the creatures of the sea
and all the creatures of the air
and those without a kayak within reach
will run with it, and you’ll regret the time
you spent beneath me, building shelves, not boats.
perspective’s everything, and from where i’m perched
your saw sounds come up piercing as a call,
and I’ve been answering; the neighbourhood
moves on. so be it. sleep as best you can:
from here my voice will keen and cast again,
a net, a tide, a higher kind of mooring.