All The Names In The Firmament
Stars upend themselves, birl round
for eternity, dots on countless dice
shaken then rolled across the black baize.
Light lets fly towards us from before
then hits the back of the retina.
An elder points and recites their names
tastes each consonant with a click of tongue
and lip, a measured and precise lick
of fresh gloss on the cool air. This is when
I zone out and instead listen for their
birth names rhythmed
in faint pulses of travelling brightness.
Bleak Midwinter Self Test Kit
You’ll know midwinter
has finally uncoupled you
from yourself when
your flesh dangles
on your bones
like bananas
from an s shaped hook
in the grocer’s
and your face
is a damp cloth
flung at your skull
in January’s faltering light
and rainfall seeps
through your leaking soles
and a flyer
from the paper reads:
Claim the devil
you don’t even know
with just one click.
Or maybe you will
tie this dog
to the butcher’s shopfront
leave it there
hoping the chill blast
unclogs apertures
shakes the blood
flushes the apertures
freshens the blood
The Speaker Of This Poem Is Almost Certainly Called ‘Irresolute’
After Stephen Dobyns
I have given you the coordinates
but you check them again.
I cause you to return because
you may have left the gas ring lit.
You circle over every tick box
on your to-do list, unable to swoop.
Maybe you remember me as your
indifferent Careers Officer from school
yellow Bic pen in a tweed top pocket.
Black lid firmly on.
I’m in the wind that spins the weather vane
the hand that adjusts the tiller half a degree
and sends you looping the bay.
My invisible finger writes ‘wait’ in the setting cement,
drags the needle in your compass.
I create a galaxy between you and the shop.
I whisper ‘Really?’ in your ear.
Leave an infinite pause
Flight of the dragonfly 