Issue 24: Iain Britton
GLASS VALLEYS
oasis
a sullen reprobate this storm
builds up grit & pumice
columns of red sky foam into clouds
obscuring the oasis
the palms
stoop fibrous necks & a child
plays in dust ponds beside the house
he pushes toys sheds his skin
small &
neatly peeled then
toddles off unaware of who’s watching
from the curtains
cats’ eyes
the road surfaces from the river
takes a deep breath cats’ eyes
sparkle in the fog trucks huff
through gears past cloned shops
a woman hooded
& smoking
stuck in her crease of gold
appears approachable
a seller
of bottled images she ignores
the jabbing calls of bad dreams
glass valleys
elopement is a distraction
the couple drive congested streets
the rush hours
hesitating
to free up a special moment an openness
to elevate the wild animal
which pants in their mouths
they vanish
into valleys of concrete & glass
where human claws rake at the sky
superstitions of one black cat
licking its night life clean
is more than enough
cups
a summer morning’s arousal
chips at the sea at children & adults
the sea bucks heaves
entangles itself in kelp
poachers of people’s
privacies
risk shifting sand dunes
uncovering artefacts the blood &
bone of midnight incursions homeless
shadows rattle their empty cups
echoes
not a first but echoes return
carving off epochs of collapsed hills
craters jolt out
hot vaporous steam
a father’s
promise is to return again
to his wife & children the sun
carves off epochs of volcanic stone
folk stories scratch at rivers
the father’s role is to act
as if nothing has happened
lists
through the night sun
filtering out moths in the light
she does her circuit
collecting newspaper
headlines
bread rolls for her children
& lists of telephone ghosts
she feels the warmth of companionship
the man who walks beside her who
doesn’t walk beside her
she goes through the motions of a woman
feeding on communal heartbeats
fox fur
at her neck it sleeps
it sniffs at veins
darkening her skin
she licks her lips drinks coffee alone
steals twilight’s grey solitude
she focuses on a stillness
on a dream undressing of men & women
meeting under trees in her house
the fox hangs on its hook
it listens
to her body bleeding
Iain Britton is an Aotearoa New Zealand poet and author of several collections of poetry. Recent poems have been published or are forthcoming in the Harvard Review, Poetry (Chicago), The New York Times, Wild Court, New Humanist, The Scores Poetry Journal, Stand, Agenda, The Fortnightly Review, Bath Magg and Poetry Wales. His collection The Intaglio Poems published by Hesterglock Press (UK) 2017. facebook.com/iainbrittonpoet
Copyright © 2020 by Iain Britton, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
