qarrtsiluni

by Rodney Wood

the sky’s a razor in summer light
flies crawl down windows singing
an elm accepts death without complaint
shadows count the size of my dreams

the day has yet to be decoded
white comets across my wrists
my mother with a light round her head
a magpie paddles across the street

the house at night relaxes its stays
shopping trolleys piled high with Bibles
father alive in the cycle of days
crushed beer cans by the railway line

a forest of bottles covered in sun tan lotion
children press damp eyes to the railings
God is an ice cream cone topped with a cherry
I’m wearing a hat, need a shave, diazepam
and the rain’s sudden applause.

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Rodney Wood lives in northeast Hampshire, U.K., and has had work in various magazines, anthologies and on the radio. He writes: “Fragments made me think of the person from Porlock, TS Eliot, Raymond Carver and a huge iceberg with chunks falling off to create giant waves whose ripples spread over the world.”