PICKINGS

Samples of poetry from NHI publications

BREATHING GENTLY
The bird drags the sun behind the shed, leaving only splinters in the window opposite, silhouetting the barking dog. A door slams, a gate creaks, footsteps fade down the alley, and one of our cats scampers along the wall, tail curled for balance. Sparks diagonal right. Our neighbour is arc-welding again! A bird chatters in the gutter, glowered at by the cat on the wall. Sue walks out from the kitchen, coal scuttle in hand. Clatter from the shed; tin shovel ringing from the coal. Back inside she goes. Face at the window, hands being washed in the sink, gurgles from the outside drain. The door swings open again, a cat shoots out, stops to sniff the air. Sue takes my arm and stands beside me, breathing gently. Sparks still flying, a halo on the wall. The radio mast sways in time to the birdsong. A cat curls round our legs. A single car drives by, unseen. Darkness. Two pale faces, blurred fingers at the end of dark clothing. Breeze on my face, lips on my cheek, arm round my waist. Stood still.
RUPERT M. LOYDELL

BREATHING GENTLY

The bird drags the sun behind the shed, leaving
only splinters in the window opposite, silhouetting
the barking dog. A door slams, a gate creaks,
footsteps fade down the alley, and one of our cats
scampers along the wall, tail curled for balance.

Sparks diagonal right. Our neighbour is arc-welding
again! A bird chatters in the gutter, glowered at
by the cat on the wall.

Sue walks out from the kitchen, coal scuttle in
hand. Clatter from the shed; tin shovel ringing
from the coal. Back inside she goes. Face at the
window, hands being washed in the sink, gurgles
from the outside drain. The door swings open again,
a cat shoots out, stops to sniff the air. Sue takes
my arm and stands beside me, breathing gently.

Sparks still flying, a halo on the wall. The radio
mast sways in time to the birdsong. A cat curls
round our legs. A single car drives by, unseen.
Darkness. Two pale faces, blurred fingers at the
end of dark clothing. Breeze on my face, lips on
my cheek, arm round my waist. Stood still.

RUPERT M. LOYDELL

from
New Hope International New Series #5

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Rupert M. Loydell is now the editor of Stride Magazine.

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This page last updated: 28th May 2003.