Anthony Dalby Poems

Now I am gouged out.
Silt slopped to the side
A ruin, safe only for owls.
Saplings reaching out from the harsh cracks
...

ti amo
there is no more
thats it
simple pure
...

Comforting snow sifts as flour at your tolling
soft feather down on iron clamped shut
sunlight touches the crystals
language drips from the icicles of your friends
...

The lines on
The hollow in my palm
Tell a story
of you
...

You called me again last night, thick still pool on the moor
you called me by the mournful pipes and sickly yellow light drawn by your bow

By your neck thrown back, the rowan thrust back in the autumn wind
...

They are here
Sentinels
...

There is no flat here
no stillness
curves constant
lines gouged, lets say snow lines
...

The alarm sounds
The guard calls me over
Arms up, fingers probe me
His maleness disturbs me
...

And now I open wide poised and yawning stretch apart
To become the awning
Before you stands the entrance
To slip through and enter
...

Tonight I shall turn into a seashell
Curving into its infinities
Silken smooth
Shining
...