In the Hurricane
The shutters clap fiercely
like an opera just ended
but this Wagner of winds
blows wilder than ever.
Windows shake like bones.
The door tries to fly open
the moment that it
does its best to slam shut.
The house is punch-drunk.
Inside is all echo,
within walls, between ears.
Candle flame belly-dances
on the thinnest of wick.
Light cannot settle.
Even our shadows don’t hold.
A Family Watch
That’s him.
On the boat leaving dock.
He’s out on deck and smoking.
He’ll be back at dusk.
In between, he and his small crew
will be casting the net,
the one he mended last Sunday after church.
It’s late in the season.
Pickings are slim.
Winds are changing,
temperatures dropping.
But he needs every last dime
to see us through the winter.
Our life is caught up in
what he manages to catch.
He sometimes says
he could have done better in his life.
But he owns the boat.
How many bankers own their banks?
It’s a hard life,
dangerous when the water does
the unexpected.
But he survives,
leaves prospering to those
better-suited
in more ways than one.
That’s him.
Same scruffy clothes he always wears.
Can just about make him out
as the boat heads past the shoal.
He’d laugh if you called him
the head of the family.
He’s happy to be its rudder,
good haul or bad.
The Life of the Hand
With gentle touch.
my hands go beyond
her wrinkled fingers
into her life.
They lift her from
her mother's womb.
They pull her excitedly
across the playground.
They nudge her toward
the phantom man
in military uniform
standing by the tree
with the heart carved
in its bark.
They grip in her fist
as her own child
busts through.
They guide her
as all falls apart,
rebuilds itself,
falls apart again.
They become her hands.
They lead up to this moment.
So don't tell me
she can barely hold
a fork, a spoon.
Don't waste my time with,
"She's not eating properly."
We're hand in hand
at the past's beguiling banquet.
We're eating properly.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and the Round Table. Latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside The Head are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and Hollins Critic.
The shutters clap fiercely
like an opera just ended
but this Wagner of winds
blows wilder than ever.
Windows shake like bones.
The door tries to fly open
the moment that it
does its best to slam shut.
The house is punch-drunk.
Inside is all echo,
within walls, between ears.
Candle flame belly-dances
on the thinnest of wick.
Light cannot settle.
Even our shadows don’t hold.
A Family Watch
That’s him.
On the boat leaving dock.
He’s out on deck and smoking.
He’ll be back at dusk.
In between, he and his small crew
will be casting the net,
the one he mended last Sunday after church.
It’s late in the season.
Pickings are slim.
Winds are changing,
temperatures dropping.
But he needs every last dime
to see us through the winter.
Our life is caught up in
what he manages to catch.
He sometimes says
he could have done better in his life.
But he owns the boat.
How many bankers own their banks?
It’s a hard life,
dangerous when the water does
the unexpected.
But he survives,
leaves prospering to those
better-suited
in more ways than one.
That’s him.
Same scruffy clothes he always wears.
Can just about make him out
as the boat heads past the shoal.
He’d laugh if you called him
the head of the family.
He’s happy to be its rudder,
good haul or bad.
The Life of the Hand
With gentle touch.
my hands go beyond
her wrinkled fingers
into her life.
They lift her from
her mother's womb.
They pull her excitedly
across the playground.
They nudge her toward
the phantom man
in military uniform
standing by the tree
with the heart carved
in its bark.
They grip in her fist
as her own child
busts through.
They guide her
as all falls apart,
rebuilds itself,
falls apart again.
They become her hands.
They lead up to this moment.
So don't tell me
she can barely hold
a fork, a spoon.
Don't waste my time with,
"She's not eating properly."
We're hand in hand
at the past's beguiling banquet.
We're eating properly.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and the Round Table. Latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside The Head are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and Hollins Critic.
