All posts tagged: Geraldine Mitchell

‘Warning Shots’ and other poems by Geraldine Mitchell

Warning Shots   When you live on the edge of an ocean, you cannot pretend you did not see it coming.   The leaves are still, birds chatter, the sea is a sheet of steel. But out west   where last night the sun left a sky illumined like stained glass   dirt heaps up, someone else’s dustpan emptied on your doorstep   and a magpie rattling gunfire at first light.   First published in Cyphers and subsequently in Of Birds and Bones   Flotilla ‘Heaven Scent’ Magnolia   They tack in, full rig, under cover of darkness, dock before dawn in cement-paved ports   at wharves of picket fence. The voyage has been long through winter’s bald estates,   gusting grit and dust have shred their sails to votive rags, bound now to every leafless branch.   Waxen petals blood-tinged white glow like manna at first light.   First published in Abridged and subsequently in Of Birds and Bones   Left Luggage   This morning I woke with seawater in my mouth. My eyes …