Sunday 5 May 2024

2 Poems by Andrea Moorhead

Walking too early

The surface is gritty
sandpaper arms lying on the ground
moving slightly with the wind
we can’t make out a body yet
there’s too much mist in the air
a brown fog from the marsh
catches the edge of sight
there’s too much glare on my lens
I’m blinking back water
swimming images out of focus
it isn’t a body, you know,
it’s the light and the mist
the seepage coming from another heart.

Singers never sleep

Early morning light, the neighbor’s yard
a figure moving along the hedge
yellow blouse, long yellow skirt
and then a voice
above the lake’s dark shimmer
I’m opening the window for Strauss
bending out, leaning against the old sill,
barely visible beneath the maple
hearing only what the breeze brings in.


Andrea Moorhead, editor of Osiris and translator of contemporary Francophone poetry. Her poems have appeared in journals such as Tears in the Fence, Shearsman, Indefinite Space, Poetry Salzburg Review, International Times, and Stride Magazine. Poetry collections include The Carver’s Dream (Red Dragonfly Press) and À l’ombre de ta voix (Le Noroît). Translations include Dark Menagerie (Élise Turcotte, Guernica Editions) and The Red Bird (Marie-Christine Masset, Oxybia Editions, France). In 2018, she was awarded the Prix International de Poésie Antonio Viccaro. Her most recent books are Tracing the Distance (The Bitter Oleander Press, 2022) and Fukushima Dreams (Finishing Line Press, 2022). MadHat will publish The Magician's Tales in 2024.

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