3 poems by Paul Sutton

FAIR

But there is no fairness in time, only

air, space and clear water if you're lucky,

gorgeous open rooms which you somehow left,

not knowing then things always end like that.

Old houses have joined hands, carrying you

head high through crowds and grey birds scattering

to glinting flint rivers then gravel pits,

white sailboats still beating for windward shores.

I look at old pictures (which mean nothing

now) and can't recall what they were or why

they got taken, just seconds in making

but enough to know that it all happened.

This girl went in alone to the same town –

the place she’s lived her life – and got reborn.

EPILOGUE (ON UVB-76)

All these noise in my head, 

voices and buzzing. Giving 

up a country for fancy bread. 

On shortwave radio, I hear war

chatter. I move into a bunker and

imagine pines, sand dunes, the stars. 

When will we two be together, my friend?

On this frequency forever - without end. 

HIS LAST WORDS

Child, I pray you'll somehow always be safe,

never awake worrying through the night.

On this world's surface, how would I find you

if you'd wandered lost, somewhere all alone?

I'd wind my window down. The lonely moon

shining over scorched fields now cooling and

the taste of meadows after rain. Let the

wind alone whisper you this poetry –

doesn't matter where, long after I'm gone;

reaching your ear, taking you safely home

_________

Paul Sutton was born in London, 1964. He's had eight collections published, the most recent is The Poetry of Gin and Tea. EPILOGUE (ON UVB-76) is from The Diversification of Dave Turnip)