Sally A Mortemore Poems

Raindrops lace my face' reflection 
puddles rippling mists on glass our train 
rattling passed the 1960s office building 
where my father principally pushes paper
...

Stripping back the morning clouds 
to slide into my coffee cup of existential thought 
the wish for a bluer sky to colour my horizons deepens 
when in declaration of the grey
...

the seagulls fly 
through cracks in 
torn-down windows. invisible 
screeches catching on glass. their avian
...

the water-colours pool in tones of melancholy 
pigments tainted for a year. from when 
alone with you two minutes seemed a lifetime.
now. nothing. but a lifetime to remember. always.
...

my tiger lies untied 
under white linen
blanketed in fur
...

beyond the edge of summer an un-furrowed field sits inside of moonlight. waiting. for worn out feet to come and fill her earth with shame.

does she remember?
does she recognise just how they stain her soil with wounds?
...

Collecting stones
the shimmer of water reflects acceptance
with an untouchable flourish of tenderness
never quite understanding its importance
...

Sirens wail of a new tomorrow
as the city slides to a sleep -
the Amen weep for the fallen
flailing the sterile streets.
...

Red Admirals flutter the glass of our prison windows
brief lives fading in frustration
the grasp of the clock's hands
too eager with insistence.
...

on that day
I stood with my black back towards the sun
my shadow cast across a myriad of smiling flowers
all drinking down their sorrow to my mother
...