Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Charlotte Gann

print this page

Black Drops

All day I pad on bare cracked feet
nowhere, jug heavy,
in and out the kitchen door.

I’m with the kids: feed them
chicken, potato, ice cream;
hear the six year old say thank you.

But I can’t talk to any of the women who come:
bear them orange mugs of tea, sit;
I am sealed.

I feel
someone somewhere may have seen me once;
now he’s thin as my dreams.
And my poor kids roll round their mattresses
in nothing but boxers and twisted sheets.

When, finally,
just as heads the size of moons
sink into crushed pillows,
the sky blinks,

and I’m gaping from my high window:
for miles and miles, see the dark trees gather;
one moment fractures blue,
and then the rain comes.

One two three, drops big as bullets
(Andy downstairs pantomimes
he’s been wounded)
and suddenly every mouth turns upwards,

and mine’s the biggest
and the first

to drink and drink and drink.

 

Page(s) 35

Back to top