Poetry
Autumn 1989
The Etiquette of Grief
The doll cried what I Wanted to cry, the inconsolable Repetitive maa-maa Bleating from the rose Of perforations in its back. My father had just died, And my mother stood […]
Poetry
Autumn 1989
A Kind of Aubade
I woke before dawn and laylistening for the echoes of my dream, or the bark, or birdcall, or whatever it was that roused me. Your body floated inert, alongside, breathing […]
Poetry
Autumn 1989
To the Tune of ‘Danny Boy’
Someone’s whistling a sentimental tune, drawing out a note until it rings like a steel bowl struck once, lightly—Come you back, or maybe, I shall hear— no voice to feel […]