Sunday 5 November 2017

2 Poems by Nancy Anne Miller


No need for wings or legs
in the buoyant tide of the ocean.

Like the f hole in a cello
where the music seeps through.

Miscellaneous notes in the waves
symphony. Shaped like a pick I

used to clean Lacquer’s hooves,
removed earth from the iron  

shoe so he could soar higher
when sweat poured down

his back salty as the ocean’s
surf, smelling of  the undersea.


If I could line letters up
like soldiers, the way they
are assembled in my Olivetti
typewriter with white shiny

cadet hats I would. If I could
neaten the  process of writing,
make it precise, orderly,
ceremonial I would. Silver

rungs rise up, salute
each letter as they
march onto the page. If
I could make my writing

not skip a beat and turn
back to form a new line
of thought at the sound
of a bell while I throw

the carrier back. A private
switching her gun from
her left to right shoulder,
I would, if I could.


Nancy Anne Miller is a Bermudian poet who has published five poetry collections: Somersault (Guernica Editions), Immigrant’s Autumn (Aldrich Press), Because There Was No Sea (Anaphora Literary Press), Water Logged (Aldrich Press), and Star Map (FutureCycle Press). Island Bound Mail is forthcoming in 2017 (Aldrich Press). She teaches poetry workshops in Bermuda.

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