Monday, February 16, 2015

2 Poems by Kerry Hardie


He planted poplars
too bard and graceful for that lumpy hillside.
In winter she'd no shelter
from wind or their only neighbours,
their windows inching closer.

But spring came and the poplars
swayed in the sweeter wind like temple dancers.
She saw that he could wait
for a place in his life where the light turned
leaves into running water

What's Left
(for Lu)

I do not move much beyond matter.
What is touched, seen, heard.

The stunned bird kicks in my hand.
I watch its eyes dull and glaze over.
It is mute, warm, dead.

I trust in its death.
That it lived, that it died.
Stay. Hold out your hand.
your fingers linked his.
My hand seeks yours.
This is the chain of belonging.
This is as much as I know.

from the wonderful 'The Zebra Stood In The Night'

No comments:

Post a Comment