Catherine Phil MacCarthy Poems

Across the bleached stepping stones,
river down to a soundless trickle, lazy pools
lukewarm in the shade, we speak of the rains
that flooded the canyon last summer,
...

The firstborn was handed back to them
in a small cask not much bigger than
a shoebox only wooden no more about it
they took it home by pony and trap
...

Giant antlers shine at night
diamond, sapphire, branch

in a neighbour's garden,
...

At the Musée Rodin I looked for us
among the lovers. We were never that
fierce, a couple twinned in flight,
white marble bodies all delicate curve
...