Tag Archives: Poetry by Graham Nunn

Tidal Notes

I
 
drinking cask wine
and smiling at her
I inhale the warm summer perfume
of her dress
 

II
 
light purrs into the grass
on days like this
I see all men
as brief as birds
 

III
 
dusk feathers the day
into vague bits of dream
while the pulse in my neck taps
trouble          trouble
 

IV

naked night swim
our drunken limbs
fumble over moons
of flesh
 

V
 
softening skin
our bodies
dance in time with
the river’s heartbeat
 

VI

skipping stones
across a glass river
each bounce
shatters our silence
 

VII

bird song lost
in the air of morning
we drift home with
the outgoing tide

 

* this poem was written collaboratively with Cindy Keong. You can view more of Cindy’s work here: http://clk27.wordpress.com/

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Low Water

At low tide
a wind came up the channel
keen as a swan’s bone.
We watched old men

inspect their crab pots
as further up the passage
sailing boats
filled with breath.

Rising from the water
oysters burn blue,
godwits thresh the dying light -
in these moments

we weigh our
blissful exile against
the way light behaves
between us and the shoreline.

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On seeing my father kill a goat

Flies colonised his fear-black eyes, the bright
corners of his mouth. He moaned, a poorly tuned
bassoon and bubbles of blood foamed
from the gun-

shot-wound, like the head on a raspberry spider. My heart
and feet kept rhythm, as I shuffled closer, cocking
my head to get a look at the curve of horn,
the white

hull of ribs. The blue calm in your eyes
gazed back as I turned to watch you wading
through spear grass, thistle and paspalum,
all clumsily bent

beneath the weight of heavy soles. Tufts of hair
and milkweed floss marked each twist of barb
wire, but that was all that separated us.
I felt briefly

sick, accidental in this exchange; standing
in an overgrown ditch, where the air swelled
with death. What was I being shown
that I needed

to retain? What peered back as silence
settled, was too complete. A body waiting
to be skinned, cleaned and quartered, nothing
that moves through this mess of undergrowth.

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