There’s Another World — It’s This One
First, checking into a boutique hotel. London,
Friday evening, set for the weekend,
a saxophone against a strong bass groove
sounding familiar. Soon falling into
soft, cool sheets and dreaming of pyramids,
the canvas tent flapping in the breeze.
Upon glancing outside, it was Dresden
burning, a drummer keeping the beat.
Then, returning to Charing Cross Road,
a piano floating from a wine bar,
such playful music, like a friend from childhood
catching us as we flew between trees.
And, on feeling lost, a warm voice speaking,
“Welcome home / where in the world you been?”
The Calligraphy of Summer Nights
Handwritten notes tell of weeks spent
near a calm beach, far from the city.
Poets, novelists, accountants, artists,
all making sense, making sentences,
making books, making bookings,
making art, making artefacts of their lives.
Lost in quiet, in a private calligraphy,
they rendered letters that formed words.
What should we make of summer nights,
when flickering candles
chase shadows from the porch
and cicadas emit their low buzz?
Everyone seemed so happy back then,
each year overwriting the one before.
Each Day, A New Adventure
Blue sky spread above the town square.
A huge hand slipped up and out
from the cenotaph. No one saw it.
A loud voice repeated ‘Go in peace.’
No one was there to hear it. That’s when
the enormous squirrel descended.
That’s how people arrived today.
They emerged with their belongings
on an escalator from the squirrel.
They walked across the square.
(None observed the hand nor detected the voice.
The squirrel, they sensed, had always been there.)
Then came time for the running race.
They drank espresso and got to work.
Michael Mintrom lives in Melbourne, Australia. He has published poetry in various literary journals including Anak Sastra, Ekphrastic Review, Landfall, Literary Yard, Meniscus, and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. He is a past winner of the University of Canterbury's MacMillan Brown Prize for Writers.
The Ekphrastic Review
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