Poem Category: All

Just junk mail…

knocking frost beads

from the tight wire fence.

Breathless summer night

just this heat in curved pillows

between us.

Pet shop

for a while an old girl

with her Christmas list.

Herb garden

the wife hosing Basil

fills my head with scent.

Travelling salesman

the scent of unclean rooms

too far from home.

Bull-ant‘s nest…

a fallen fledgling

no mother comes to.

Diaries found

each hope so neatly written

in our grandmother‘s hand.

Attic sun

a paleness comes to the doll

each afternoon.

House open

the realtor‘s soft sell

in the bedroom‘s silence.

Dinner table

coming in with the dog

his sad hungry stares.