TWO POEMS

All the dry cracked earth

Summer at its apex 
rolls away

gathering the customary leaves
in warm colours

that contain 
the dying heat.

*


Outside, greens turn to yellow 
& there are black birds flying, 

screaming for late summer, 
screaming to leave.

*


You were a shock of red &
porcelain 


w/bright blue, 
blush & black. 

You were grabbing at my arm 
among the cans of fizzy wine.


*


When you came close
I wanted your proximity


& the grace to know
the things that are & are not 


in the intricate ruins 
of our souls.

Snuff Waxy Commander

Bittersweet amusements 
of the floating world 
all gathered & loitering
at the edges of perception
then drifting off again
into the primeval moisture.

I shall cheer myself up
with some footwear in C. F. Stead’s 
Snuff Waxy Commander.

The other night 
a low orange moon 
hung as big as a beachball
over the city,
glowering.

If sometimes I would like to
see you around–

If sometimes I would like to not
know where to put 
myself–

I want to know
what it is about you that 
flickers & blinks 
like pedal-powered bicycle lights 
in the city streets 
at night
all coated 
in gingery moonlight.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Simon Ravenscroft lives in Cambridge, England and has published poems recently in Heavy Feather Review, The Penn Review, The Inflectionist Review, Osmosis Press, Apocalypse Confidential, High Horse, Soft Union, Full House Literary, and other places. He has a website at: simonravenscroft.haus

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