Gillian Commerford Poems

There's a place
where the wind blows so hard
it blows the snot from your nose
and the trees grow crooked
...

We reach out
and sometimes touch
our fingers brush
a rush
...

The truth is
I'd like to believe
that Jesus died for me.
Sometimes I seem to feel
...

You look a little like Jesus
and you talk a lot about God-
your words are soft and silky
but your eyes are hard.
...

Its like a magic game I play-
I draw a circle round myself
and no one must come in
and I must stand as stiff as a tree
...

When I was a child
and suffering
I wrapped myself in fantasy
like a warm cocoon
...

Not made for society
he lingers in the hall
he gazes on the well-fed ladies
watches bosoms rise and fall
...

Treading water
marking time
waiting for the flood
the smell of burning
...