Guest Poems

Intrusion The house is drifting into moon’s dim light.The television’s off and no lamps glow.I’m listening to sounds that stir the night. The carriage clock ticks quietly, there’s a slightpersistent shush where rustling breezes blow.The house is drifting into moon’s...

Sack and Sugar Let us imagine Falstaff as a cake. He sits there, a great cherry-in-a-chair,and lets us watch him, studying outhis layers. Fruitcake, sure, in allits connotations, thumb-pressed throughwith candied peel or currantsconcealed like other people wouldhave...

Walking Home at One I have told you how I love the airat 2:00 a.m. when it’s so clean and clearthe night birds’ warnings not to interfereseem to include me in their reach of care. And, here, I’m walking home alone again.But this is early by comparison. Only 1:00.The...

The Rooks of Stromness It’s plain the rooks of Stromness own the town.They’re taking over slowly, plot by plot.These black and clever birds have been aroundforever, roosting high in trees. They’ve caughtthe change and flown on it. Some surf the breezethen flap to keep...

I Will Walk Before it Snows Somewhere in the sky the heavy lightness of snowwaits. I snap my knees again hope my trouser beltkeeps me whole until I reach home. My spine tries to balance on the legs, allow yawnsto grow through my windpipe, then release into the skyas...

Alive That wet April evening,so vivid in memory; how we marvelledat the trees’ branches intertwined as things connect when we look back and a mirror dropping off the wallwithout being touched we laughed off and unknowingly each yearpass the date of our deathand stay...

Geese One of the first things I can remember:being lifted by my father high to see the geese.It was late at night in mid-November:the days so short, fields beginning to freeze.Now I live close to the sea in the west –small hills and lochs, and birds on every side;so...

Crossing It’s two strangerscrossing a bridgein opposite directionsover a dried-up river.And the sun beats downon the back of oneand in the face of the otherand as they passthey are holdersof the moment. One stretchesout her hand,the other takes it.They clasp each...

Returning to the Island you see nowwhat you missed the first time children playing in the streets, barking dogs,balconies of bikes, flowers, shirts dryinglike this Boats bob uncertainly in the harbour The sun is going downtaking the day with it – children, dogs,...

Polishing his Shoes My father visits me from deepin the cupboard of my memory.He sits in the kitchen, Sunday’s papers spread out on the floor before him.There’s a waft of turpentine as he popsthe lid off the tin, dips bristles in wax and I hear the reassuring sweepof...

Questions on a Hill  I climbed Cat Bellson the first day of winter:mist above and below me,sleet in the air. The view of lakes and islands,green and brown and silver-grey,was wonderful.No-one could tell it true. I want you to wonderwhy it is that men climb highto feel...

Here I Stand Here I stand for I can do no other,tied to my neighbours, my enemies, friends,cousins and siblings, ancestors, offspring,pushing and shoving and reaching for light,building up brawn and strengthening sinews,bartering messages, crisscrossing limbs,digging...

Crossing the language divide We commit to speech as we do to a bridgein the faith it will bring us to the further shorewithout cracking, in the faiththe further shore is where we want to be.What if our words shape themselves differentlyin the listener’s ear, distorted...

On the Cusp of Climate Change Days are like thimbles now, full of small needs,whatever works, potluck, making do.I plant aloe in clay pots on the porch, arugula,orange nasturtium, parsley because it matters.I am a woman walking under the fan palmsunderneath the desert...

Goldilocks and the three percent inflation rate Three bowls of porridgeall differing in sizes,her silver spoon risesto herrosy red lips.She sips.She gulps.She convulses. Porridge icylike her harsh moral code.Three skinny bears,return to their humble abode. Fur ragged...