Poem Category: Miscellaneous

Soprano
how vital the applause
should choke.

First light
the Gum trees measuring
one inch- two inch- three inch four.

In today’s picked flowers
a thorn
has found my blood.

Road curb
the old man squints
before his dash.

Dance class
then the Latin rhythms in
our long walk home.

Late night drinks
her flicking red hair
at his jealousy.

Travelling salesman
the scent of unclean rooms
too far from home.

Sunday lunch
dropping the family album
laugh lines slip out.

Sunday lay-in
the corner spider
now with dots of her young.

In the tall tree hills
down a winding road
motel lights in the fog.