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')