Thursday, 27 June 2013

Mendoza, from “Northumberland Poems”




from VeerAbout (edited by Adrian Clarke & William Rowe, Veer Books, 2011)

mem
anxious shifts of rhythm
months pass and we don't speak

beth [a house]
the hollow of the hand a door
he
[a window]

si
is written on face
is sharp is bite acute


Still winter, perhaps.
I forget the thread – no,
there we were,

legs [yello / rust]
thigh on thigh
arched in exhibition

emerge and
slip .  your hair,
braided
                 exit against
harsh winter light.
decomposing towns no longer

gleaming                        southbound

                                                       lines /
                                             askew

we love the reverb
we
echo in your sounding
chamber


am not a song writer.  I hang from a single
                                        chord, crude and
                                     darkening

                    drifts and
sky,
undulating inarticulate lines my

indolent lips                             my
mouth
on your throat

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