2 poems by Kate Noakes

Thwart poachers, post no pictures

An adult black rhino, male, is browsing

tamarisk for salt with his pointed top lip

as we approach a mile or so across

stony desert ridges in silence.

The trackers have traced him all morning,

the old way, on foot, are happy he’s calm.

Unable to see us, yet he could charge

in seconds. He can smell us to pin-point,

even though we’ve followed the

no perfume, no scented sunscreen rule.

Impossible to photograph, I burn his image.

He’s in my mind forever, turning

towards us before setting off at pace

to the next choice grazing spot.

Watercourses

The dryads are laughing

and choosing their fresh green

dresses. Young beech

we are liking for us this year.

Young beech. Young beech.

A cruel chorus for sister

nymphs, frocked in the white

of falling water, foamed

and browning with nitrates,

chicken shit, human scat,

hour after hour after three

million plus hours, overflowing,

laughing too at the nereids

cloaked in the same stink

with nowhere to hide.

____________

Kate Noakes lives in Bristol, and has a PhD from the University of Reading. Her latest books are Sublime Lungs (Two Rivers Press, 2026) and Bog Queens (Green Bottle Press, 2026). She is one third of Bristol poetry performance group, Braid, and she offers poetry coaching.