Twisted in a Mini Ritz

Summer days in a silver Mini Ritzwith red racing stripes, bucket seats,and the perfect sound system,on the way from Twickenhamto Fulham. I had my windows down,stuck in jam,  suffocating heat easedby a warm breeze, jazzing alongto ‘Twisted’: “My analyst told methat I was right out of my head”,enjoying dog days of freedom,doing my best Joni […]

Children of the Brambles

Thorny limbs snatch at naked skinon the twilit forest path; glancingright and left, we seek knots of berries,black and shiny as jet, followingbrimstone and comma butterfliesthat drift like graceful ballet dancersarrayed in spectacular sunset hues. We dodge wasps weaving among spursand landing on fruit that bursts with juice;pick flies and spiders from the clusters,brush cobwebs […]

Clair de Lune

On a bright summer’s day in Cologne,the leaves infused with rays of sunlighton a tree-lined street, and quite alone,I was delighted to hear moonlighttumbling from the strings of a guitar.I lingered by an open window, listeningto blue notes above the hum of cars,caught in a dream, like glimpsinga crescent moon through cloud.I leaned against the […]

On the Norfolk Broads

It’s never silent among the reedsand water lilies: inquisitive swans gliding in a boat’s wake hissand honk; there’s the bittern’s boom, an otter’s splash, and a breezewhistles through overhanging leaves. Passing boats rumble, blast their hornsby the bridge, the tide slaps at moored-up craft rockingand swaying in the moorings. But at sundown, everything is quietin […]

A Knot Around my Heart

I tighten fast inside your tourniquet,your words a knot around my heart, head exploding withunweathered and untethered light. How did you weave a poem so densein its changing tempo and major to minor shifts that make metighten fast inside your tourniquet? The alliterative tick of verbsand the gaping assonance of bouncing beat evokesunweathered and untethered […]

The Crone Can’t Spell Anymore

As a linguist and English teacher,and even before, as a learner,I never had problems spellingor remembering the meaningof…things. Entering my seventieth year,signs of ageing have appeared.I have begun to trip and stumble,words no longer tumblefrom my fingers. My handwriting’s scribble,as if a dyslexic spider resides in my pen.What I type isn’t what I see on […]