Tuesday, 5 May 2020

3 Poems by Andrea Moorhead

Speaking stones

The inscriptions bleed tonight

letters moving right to left

forcing the darkness between to glow

where the mark of a stone chisel

catches the edge of a star.


Howling

A pattern of ice on the eyelids

it’s hard to see any farther

than the swaying hemlock

the night is matte black

charcoal powdered

you’re singing again

somewhere far out

beyond the window

where the northwest wind

pulls down the sun


After the books are closed

Stretching the air before night

and the stars crackle and spit

a child wanders through the woods

his hands fern-feathered and sure

there are no pelicans here nor tigers

he’s looking for something else

something that can’t be discovered in the day

it’s caught in his hair now

filaments of salt-light

and the thin long strands of a dolphin’s dream.


Bionote

Andrea Moorhead, editor of Osiris and author of several collections of poems, including The Carver’s Dream (Red Dragonfly Press) and À l’ombre de ta voix (Le Noroît). Translations include Dark Menagerie by Élise Turcotte (Guernica Editions). The Autumn 2018 issue of The Bitter Oleander features her work. She received the Prix international de poésie Antonio Viccaro 2018.

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