Andrew Fincham Poems

Our meeting’s matriarch
(the softly offered appellation fits
like felted haberdashery)
sits upright in accustomed place
...

I could perhaps record
in words
how once upon my life
inside
...

They who
once talked
in language
...

As oil on water
I live in pictures of you
Iridescent
Swirling stream
...

My Country
‘Tis of thy Skies
She sings:
...

I am the junior god of transformation
(you do not need to know me)
I work the scratter lever.
...

All over-all
And over,
Drawn on and in
and in each scared moment
...

My darling.
I, as you are unwrapped
Sense you in your perfume
Watch
...

Touched by one who’s loved

Whose love
...

What does a poet
Have to do?

Unless to show
...