I don’t submit much poetry. It’s not often I find magazines I think might like what I write. Green Ink is one I came across and slipped a submission in just under the wire. The other is Gleam, the Cadralor magazine. Whether my cadralore were any good, I had no idea, but I love the idea and submitted anyway. I heard at the weekend that Green Ink has accepted one of my poems, and today, that Gleam will publish one of my cadralore in their next issue!
To celebrate, I’ve dared another cadralor.
Earth tides
1.
Sun waxes from yellow mist, wanes like the moon,
seas rise and fall on tides, flowing in and out
like the pulse of blood in the chambers
of the ancestral heart.
2.
I never knew exactly how to talk to you, how you’d take it.
Laugh? Sneer? Storm out of the room?
You were a spring tide, out of proportion,
but I held you in my lagoon arms.
3.
It stinks in the kitchen again, dead mouse.
They come up the waste pipe and drown.
The cats sit unblinking. The life and death of mice,
a wave of indifference. There are always more.
4.
Old age is a slow death; we are dying for years.
My dog is old, unstable on his legs, deaf, sight failing.
His dying will be a short thing, a sun setting, tide retreating.
They say he is dying; I say, he is old.
5.
We watch things together, the kestrel stooping, stars—
you say they blink. I say they dance. Our fingers
entwine, like thoughts, yours go one way, mine another,
but what matters is that we follow the same curve of the earth.
I don’t submit much poetry. It’s not often I find magazines I think might like what I write. Green Ink is one I came across and slipped a submission in just under the wire. The other is Gleam, the Cadralor magazine. Whether my cadralore were any good, I had no idea, but I love the … Continue reading Two poems accepted!Read MoreJane Dougherty Writes
