and tapped shards of magma
like cigarette ash onto the passing trees.
She was beautiful and courteous
to the other scholars of nature.
She’d make space for the squirrels,
twitching like tweakers, to pass unobstructed;
she’d lift the hedgehogs, doleful as skin-poppers,
over the screeching train tracks.
But her face was dark and mournful
even when she lifted her blazing palms
to rub her leaking eyes,
to caress the hissing trees.
Hair cropped by fire,
they stand black and naked now
damned sentinels wreathed in shame.
She has gone, dragging the sun down
beneath horizon’s brittle crust,
its final cry turning the cloud
into a sprawling bruise, as the
sunlight gently bleeds away
into night’s quilted pockets.
by Steven Nash
Steve Nash should currently be doing research for his Ph.D he is a qualified teacher but despite this earns his keep (sort of) as a musician playing to anyone foolish enough to stay in the bar.
Steven's blog is Starlight to Casual Moths.
My favourite contemporary poet!!!
ReplyDeleteI love this piece so much, the sorrow and fragility of growth is beautifully visualised in the drug/pastoral metaphors.
Love it love it love it!!!
Thanks for this Smoke xxx
The imagery in this poem is terrific, I particularly like:
ReplyDeleteShe’d make space for the squirrels,
twitching like tweakers, to pass unobstructed;
she’d lift the hedgehogs, doleful as skin-poppers
as the previous commenter has suggested the entire piece is wrapped in fragility like smoke itself.
This is a great work of contemporary poetry isn' it?
ReplyDeleteI'm impressed by the way it knits together through the alliterative repetition and keeps you rolling along so pleasently despite the subject matter.
I look forward to ploughing through all of the contributors' poems from your right-hand list Roxanne, you have a great eye for a poem.
Not sure my critical faculty'll ever be quite so fine tuned
This was the firstpoem of this poets I'd come across but checked out hisblogthanks to your link and it's great. Thanks for the link Smoking Book.x
ReplyDelete