Three short poems, recently shared on twitter through @toptweettuesday – Black Bough Poetry’s imagist focused poetry platform. Two birds, two sky-holes and a tiny galaxy of flies and light.

Landmarking

They became the place
those towered
hyper eyes,
charging
cold white 
stone with hot 
charisma,
there
beneath 
a broken clock,
church reconsecrated
feral cathedral,
London cliff,
peregrine scrape,
lording over 
prey below.

Only crow

Horror arrives 
as a hole in bird form, 
a ripple, a warp
in want of definition

An absence 
in near space, 
fills the air half of 
the park with doubt

It is negative angel,
siren, ink-blot 
fiend, shadow
question mark

Clearly not 
of ordinary sky, 
the thing is 
magnificence 

On wings,
until a rust voice 
insists otherwise: 

I am crow, only crow

Galactic wood

Above the path
a tiny galaxy 
of light is birthed, 
between hunching 
oaks, a world pool, 
brim with lambent tints
– gold and bronze, 
darting flies its stars, 
until the angle 
of the sun twists, 
changing the universe, 
again.