Summer is
not full here
she is dry and rattles
she is clawed.
She is burrs on my hem
the thorn in my sandal
the ant’s sting on my thigh.
She has engineered
an infinite variety
of husks:
an armoury
of carriage designs
hooked, toothed, and spiked.
There are gliders and spinners
pods sticky and smooth
parachutes, catapults
and ingenious explosive devices.
Her colonising will
is absolute.
Only the birds’ songs
are fluid
and they are merely collaborators.
I retreat to rub balm
on my unprotected legs
and then Marika appears
her arms full of apricots.
About the author
Widely travelled in Europe, Africa and USA, Cora Greenhill constantly returns to inspirational Crete. Her poems have appeared in The Interpreters House, Staple, and…
Read the full bioIssue 08 · February 2010
Table of contents
- From the editors
- Poetry
- Lisbon Holds a Prisoner One Night
- Postcard from Texas
- Four poems by Mahogany L. Browne
- Three Poems by Michael Bazzett
- Travelling Long to Inform a Friend’s Death
- Train Ride to Zagreb
- Two poems by Stephen Bunch
- Gavage (and the Stress of Flying These Days)
- Then
- Two Poems by Jon Sands
- Two poems by Neil McCarthy
- Two poems by Sue Burge
- Summer is
- Two poems by Sheila Wild
- Two poems by Susanna Rich
- Postcard Prose
- Travel Notes