Poem with Lines from My Grandmother’s Phone Call / Ekphrastic Poem after a Fantasy of a Man Dancing on Water
His Water Walz is a black and white photograph being coloured in by my mother. The one her father drove to take in the next village in their family car, back in the 70’s. He’s drawn to the city, what can I say. He moves like the fumes of arrival — loneliness has come to him & he is dancing… Read more →