Guest Poem by D.W. Evans

DW Evans was born in Newcastle upon Tyne and lives in St Martin, Jersey. He won the Alan Jones Prize (2019 & 2021), awarded second place in Ó Bhéal’s Five Words 2022, and been highly commended in Acumen (2020 competition), Segora (2021) StoryTown Corsham (2022) and Shepton Mallet Snowdrop Festival Competition (2022). His poems have appeared in various publications including Frogmore Papers, One Hand Clapping, Proverse, Acumen, The Honest Ulsterman, Lucent Dreaming, Best New British & Irish Poets 2019 -2021, Epoch, A3 Review, Madrigal and Dreich.

The Other One

Opening the blue door of a shed he had called
The Other One,
his old straw hat tips from a nail,
doffed by a breeze predicting a storm.

Its crown’s unwinding like a work unfinished,
black band sweat salted –
so much garden slog
under a few retirement years of sun.

So little left to show for it, all that slog.
A year untended, and where are the flowers
of yesteryear? Slug shit mostly,
piled up against trunks of weeds.

A god dies and its universe goes to pot>
I’ll keep his trowels and other diggy,
clawing stuff, though containers and planters
begin and end my Eden.

His hat I’ll let the wind take –
deliver it to the other dimension,
presumably somewhere up north?