Holiday Interlude by Ankh Spice from Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen

Every morning she’s down there
on the verge, barefoot and swaying her weight
like her holy soles are slow-burning

The light here is an old violin, cracked
varnish music
scratching bars through the watcher’s window
and her grey head bows angel time while she dances
if that’s what this is

By the eighth morning I’ve composed her life
from scraps, quilting her song
with real wild bright minors
I toast her with coffee
and sing her down ribbons

The day I leave she treadles the gutter
stormwater, kicks up sticks and feathers
cursing the rain
cursing the pigeons, the windows, the watcher
wearing a whole different heart
and the light is more hammer than strings

Photo by (c) Ankh Spice

Bio on mini interviews blog http://poetryminiinterviews.blogspot.com/2022/01/ankh-spice-part-one.html?sm_au=iVVrjf8kjTJ8DssVHtJqHK0qJ6jF1

5 Poems by Ankh Spice : That which can be made visible, Hold the river, Feeding the koi, Act like you were never for sale, & Hathor’s gift

@seagoatscreams on Twitter

2020 Pushcart Nominee

Ankh Spice is a poet from Aotearoa (New Zealand), who has an abiding love of the sea, and story-songs that include small mysteries. His poetry has been recently published in Black Bough Poetry, Burning House Press, and Pixel Heart Magazine, and has recently completed his first chapbook.  @SeaGoatWhoScreamsPoetry on Facebook.