Wolves in the Wilderness

Wolves in the Wilderness   Once there were wolves   in the deep, feathered snow. In quiet, ancient valleys.   In the mountains of Mexico.   I dreamt about it long ago, of a house with a flaking door; of coffee and music and bare feet falling softly on a sunlit floor.   Now there…

Eudora

This is an old poem I wrote when my grandmother was beginning to deteriorate with early onset Alzheimer’s.  As it happens, and as life goes, my grandfather became suddenly ill not long after this with a severe brain tumour and passed away a year before my grandma.   This was my imagining life without her….

The Forest

This is a poem I wrote several years ago but it just surfaced again unexpectedly, so I thought I would share. In the northernmost territories, where bald eagles circle their prey Smaller birds are stalked in the open sky by men with pellets of clay Grey wolves run in morning packs across the deep and…

These muted days

​Your blankets have been hot-washed, tumbled and donated  and your corner of the kitchen is clear and simply a kitchen corner again,  suitable for the storage  of dustpans and brushes, dinner trays  and a box of emergency toys and crayons for the kids.   You were my baby  and I loved you  and I could…

The little one

The little one has mucus gathered at her nose this evening and she lays in my arms unpurring and still, onyx eyes open.   Her tiny animal heart  beats at a speed she surely cannot take for too long.   My fingers touch it, fluttering wildly in the cage of her ribs, beneath her front limbs  when…

In the kitchen, after dinner

It seems I spend my life crouched in some cold kitchen with an upturned glass and a torn piece of card,  trying to capture time as though it could still thrive, contained in an elegant dome of my choosing. Moments, shivering and rare, scuttle across the floor wishing not to be trapped nor admired by those who do not realise that these…

Splintered fences

There are morning crows on the splintered fences, yakking and pushing each other around.  The first crunches of ice on the ground, these cheap boots that let the water in. I want this all to be over.  I want it only to begin. I long to reach in to the gut and the lungs and…