Love’s Last Feed

Cold spring, moldy summer, chill fall.
You upstairs in your sorry bed,
ruminant.

No fight left in me,
no hay for the goats.
The field pounded dry year after year,
a stone acre.

Let go.
Let me be gone.
Nothing for the goats
but salt and stones.

G. F. Boyer has published poems in a number of journals, including The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, RHINO Poetry, and Heron Tree. She lives in rural Pennsylvania, where she edits and manages the Clementine Unbound poetry website and works as a freelance editor. Her full-length book, Missile :: Hymnal :: Amulet, will be released in late 2018 or early 2019 by FutureCycle Press.

Advertisements
Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Listen

            “…a bird of the air shall carry the voice”
            —Ecclesiastes 10:20

In the curves
of a transatlantic cable,
sea anemones shelter.

Pigeons roost
beneath a freeway bridge,
asleep to the overhead rumble.

I’ll accommodate too,
grow used to silent evenings,
meals apart,

the cries of geese
down the flyway.
For weeks their silver ribbons

turned like Möbius strips, sun
burnishing their bellies.
You left, too, compelled.

And I, compelled to watch you
through a glass darkly.
Glass—a liquid that shatters,

they say. But really,
a solid that breaks.

G. F. Boyer has published poems in a number of journals, including The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, RHINO Poetry, and Heron Tree. She lives in rural Pennsylvania, where she edits and manages the Clementine Unbound poetry website and works as a freelance editor. Her full-length book, Missile :: Hymnal :: Amulet, will be released in late 2018 or early 2019 by FutureCycle Press.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Half-Life

You scratch your feet
for hours, coaxing
shy blood.

            Blisters
map your progress
from ankle to instep to toe.

            Branches
of a diseased elm
at the night window.

. . .

They tuck you into a steel sleeping bag,
ease a laser eye down your throat.

You don’t call, so I make soup.

An offering.

. . .

In the midnight waiting room,
imagining the soul as a wafer,
pod split and half-unshelled.

Here in this house of souls
I remember our skin
sweating together.

. . .

Prayers like smoke.
Can they penetrate, sidle
between molecules
to some hovering god?

. . .

Roses, havens for bacteria,
I carry out of your hospital room.
Away also with baby’s breath
and homicidal ferns.

Under the car door,
one lethal petal in
the dust.

G. F. Boyer has published poems in a number of journals, including The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, RHINO Poetry, and Heron Tree. She lives in rural Pennsylvania, where she edits and manages the Clementine Unbound poetry website and works as a freelance editor. Her full-length book, Missile :: Hymnal :: Amulet, will be released in late 2018 or early 2019 by FutureCycle Press.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Luncheon on the Grass

Discontent with the crumbs of your lover’s table,
I inspect pine needles.

Once a cylinder, these have split
lengthwise into three parts.

That’s how bayonets are made, you say.
The wound is triangular
and doesn’t heal easily.

What are we?
What do we imagine ourselves to be?
Take the knife, slice the apple,
school me in warfare and love.

G. F. Boyer has published poems in a number of journals, including The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, RHINO Poetry, and Heron Tree. She lives in rural Pennsylvania, where she edits and manages the Clementine Unbound poetry website and works as a freelance editor. Her full-length book, Missile :: Hymnal :: Amulet, will be released in late 2018 or early 2019 by FutureCycle Press.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Transfigured

Up it grew inside her leg,
the bindweed:

a convolution,
a cordage, an intricate rigging,

circling bone’s blanched trellis,
the slender tibia, the condyles
and epicondyles,

the larger
and tongue-twisting fibula.

There at the knee, an errant vine
coiled behind the meniscus,

the sesame seed of patella,
continuing to rise,

knotting
and twining the framework
of pelvis, the comfortable belly.

Then, flowering in the cage
of her bosom:

lush, unfolding,
a flaming blossom.

G. F. Boyer has published poems in a number of journals, including The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, RHINO Poetry, and Heron Tree. She lives in rural Pennsylvania, where she edits and manages the Clementine Unbound poetry website and works as a freelance editor. Her full-length book, Missile :: Hymnal :: Amulet, will be released in late 2018 or early 2019 by FutureCycle Press.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

On The Birth Throes Of Cherry Riches

We dignify our new-begotten issue
Into this scofflaw lineage.
Fated is a motley record.

To be nativitied in maximum-security
Is recognition for us.
Termlessly may she be dumb, happy,
Pelfing dependable admiration
From swindlers and prowlers.

Christopher Barnes’ first collection LOVEBITES is published by Chanticleer Press. Each year he reads at Poetry Scotland’s Callander Poetry Weekend. He also writes art criticism which has been published in PEEL and Combustus magazines.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

To Honour The Marriage Vows Of Dick Goody And Precious Luckins

Mouthpieces screamed it wouldn’t blossom;
Pewed we even now gang up,
Except Angel, the bridesmaid cuffed
For head-butting our groom.
Such pretty-pretty glad rags.
What’s a trickle in blood –
A sleeping partner won’t lay waste
To your perfect, made good day.

Christopher Barnes’ first collection LOVEBITES is published by Chanticleer Press. Each year he reads at Poetry Scotland’s Callander Poetry Weekend. He also writes art criticism which has been published in PEEL and Combustus magazines.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment