Two poems by Gill McEvoy

Derek Jarman’s Film “Blue”

His silence now is blue. As if an artist drew
a laden brush of paint from alder buds to reeds
his mind and mouth and tongue are flushed
by blue: the low-slung sky, the feathered seeds,

the brook like navy slate beneath a moon,
the tassels of phalaris plumes fused
with the moody amethyst of alder buds;
blue dancing in the rain-logged field’s flood,

and blue the cold stars whirling in his head.
He knows that in this moment if he speaks
“cyan, cobalt, indigo” will float
like moulted feathers from his throat,

his tongue become the painter’s brush
that coats the world in this deep blue hush.

(previously published in South 47, 2013)

 
 
 
Cat with the Cream

So huge tonight, the moon, so white and tempting:
I will sink a spoon into its bowl of cream,
create a crater no-one’s ever mapped,
then eat it slowly, lick by lick, until it dwindles
to a half, a quarter, crescent, nothing.

I’ll clean my whiskers, score a rough tongue
down my fur, stretch out as far
as a bursting belly will allow,
and snooze through the ensuing fuss.

But I’ll never give it back, oh no,
it was too delicious. In the dark nights
that will come, I’ll dream of it.

(previously published in what used to be Poetry Nottingham)
 
 
 
Gill McEvoy’s recent publication is The First Telling (Happenstance Press) which deals with rape and its aftermath. The pamphlet won the 2015 Michael Marks Award. Two collections form Cinnamon Press: The Plucking Shed, 2010, Rise, 2013. One of 6 featured poets in Caboodle, Prole Books. She lives in Chester where she runs a number of regular poetry events. Gill is a Hawthornden Fellow.