Thursday, 17 April 2014

Guest Poet 6 - Yvonne Reddick - Haunts

(Here is another excellent poem from our guest sixth poet, Yvonne Reddick who I have encountered through Napwrimo also) 

I can hear you
through the foxed page in front of me.

Its words slip back into dialect
when they’re excited, or about to swear.
They have your hazel eyes.

Your olive jacket still hangs by my desk,
haunted by your scent
of Navy Cut and cinnamon.

I remember when we drove
the windburned coastal road –
you were spinning ropeknot
yarns about your ship.

We walked the clifftop
to the leeward grove
that rooted and grew
into sea-tales with salt-stained pages.

The grey in your hair – the slow hoarfrost
cooled your blood and froze your joints
until one night, I found you still.

Next day, the Irwell was cold - 
mist haloed the sodium lights
over the cobweb bridge, the empty wharves.

At my writing desk
you stand at my shoulder.
Your laughter is earth-deep and quiet
as I read. I know you’re there.

( 'Yvonne Reddick is a Lancashire-based poet, academic and organiser of workshops, fieldwalks and gigs in pubs with local writers. Her work explores our relationship to places and environments through time. She has published her poetry and poetry translations in journals, magazines, a pamphlet and an edited anthology. Her work has recently been shortlisted for the Jane Martin Memorial Prize')

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