I felt it would probably be a little hypocritical me going on about other peoples work out there and other peoples creativity that’s sent into me without showing my own from time to time. This definitely isn’t what the blog’s about, but I felt like there’s this one piece I wanted to share. So here, quite out of nowhere, is my poem ‘Boreal’ – there’s no analysis or explanation because unfortunately I don’t have one. I just hope you enjoy.
Have you ever
When the only thing to do is move
like you’re looking for something,
and then the dull radiance
of white, boreal light
leaks under your eyelids
and into your brain.
They hang from
deliberately tall, pointed metal.
If you’ve ever walked under them
when the freezing, ebbing shine starts up
in an arctic flash
so you can see wet, spitting fray
and the dots of the fog
and the swirl of the breeze
and your shoe laces.
When all your troubles are, briefly,
encased in ice.
When the street lights turn on, the night has come.