Banks of the Tyne, May 8th 2015
The water wrinkles, wrinkles
in a slow parade of frowns,
worry offered to the sky.
Here’s a bollard, a witch drowned
in mud, and three tyres,
strange octopi, tentacles severed.
The gulls make cunning mourners,
always a cackle at the edge of their cries.
Trees green their bones; it doesn’t matter –
their filigree will flake.
I want a haberdashery of rooks
to roll this day into a ball,
curl gloved hands around its sullen sphere
and peck a curse from hope’s remains.
The river recurs like a dream,
like hands across a face,
like five more years.
Catherine Ayres is a teacher who lives in Northumberland. Her poems have appeared in a number of print and online magazines, including Ink, Sweat and Tears and The Moth. She recently came third in Ambit’s ‘Under the Influence’ competition. Some of her poems will be published in pamphlet form by Black Light Engine Room later this year.