{"id":12280,"date":"2022-09-06T13:43:28","date_gmt":"2022-09-06T12:43:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12280"},"modified":"2024-11-26T20:26:21","modified_gmt":"2024-11-26T19:26:21","slug":"3-poems-11","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12280","title":{"rendered":"3 Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

Vicar prays on the beach<\/h2>\n

Steady upwards on his knees, ruminant
\nby stewing sea. Fear pestering him
\nlike a litter of pups. Shhh<\/em>. These big waves
\nblot out the smallers. Irritated. Next to them
\nhe is a dragonfly of a thing
\nflitting the water\u2019s roof, not long
\nin the world: snapped in, snipped out.<\/p>\n

His footprints no doubt vanishing
\nbehind him. Pebbles murdering his kneecaps.
\nThe fast beat of wings inside his chest
\nthunderous in its way. I am a scrap of balsa<\/em>
\nbut still count as a landmark at this moment<\/em>
\n– eyes listening, ears looking
\nhere very able and alive
\nin the middle of a tricky prospect.<\/p>\n

Faith coming through just legible
\nalmost violent
\nits hook dangling lazily in the current
\na prayer being brought to him as a spell –
\nall of us on flock<\/em> – as he is lifted
\nsticking out his tongue
\ngathering raindrops in its hollow.
\nBecoming rain. If such a thing were possible<\/em>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The sun falls down<\/h2>\n

To lift the sun from where she\u2019s fallen in the stream
\nwould take two of us, and a cart in which to heave her<\/p>\n

wheeling her back to where the sky begins
\nto let her have another turn.<\/p>\n

She would be winking, ungainly, broad-backed
\nin the barrow, all mild and ribald. Drunken landlady<\/p>\n

bestowing white-gold on our faces
\njust as she\u2019s doing now: a manic disc<\/p>\n

simmering in the cloud-water
\nwhere the meadow detaches from itself.<\/p>\n

We don\u2019t mind that she\u2019s fallen –
\nwe\u2019ll help her up, of course we will.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

One night<\/h2>\n

After Robinson Jeffers<\/em><\/p>\n

I like it when
\nthe birds return
\nafter a storm:<\/p>\n

the voice of the first
\nto throw its notes out
\nlike a little net<\/p>\n

across the wet night
\nwhich is nearly dawn.
\nThe storm is not your own<\/p>\n

but a reflection of other forces.
\nNevertheless, I lay listening
\nthinking of you lying listening<\/p>\n

to each crack and ripple:
\nthe world thrown to the floor
\nand scorched in two.<\/p>\n

This after I dreamt
\nthe house was on fire
\nbut burning so slowly there was time<\/p>\n

to rescue every cup
\nand choose what to keep
\nat our leisure<\/p>\n

as if it was under our control
\nwhilst also completely out of it.
\nThe weather giving<\/p>\n

just as generously
\nto the last. Dousing it all with rain
\nand the plants drinking.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Vicar prays on the beach Steady upwards on his knees, ruminant by stewing sea. Fear pestering him like a litter of pups. Shhh. These big waves blot out the smallers. Irritated. Next to them he is a dragonfly of a thing flitting the water\u2019s roof, not long in the world: snapped in, snipped out. His […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":377,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[408,405],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n3 Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12280\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12280&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"3 Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Vicar prays on the beach Steady upwards on his knees, ruminant by stewing sea. 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