Catherine Gander
two poems
Pinus Pinea
From the corners of my madness I watch you
your opposite loving you
in the middle of
the third day of sickness the cloud-
scudded sky prismatic
with birdsong
I think of Merwin all the languages until now
have flowed from leaf to leaf
why can’t I
tell you my map has expired
my tongue cannot pronounce
your face
time bitten moon marbled let no look be
the last parasol pine
spinning a blue
gauze world your strength in gentleness
your arms goading
god himself to leap
Aftermath
A full moon
– ivory, aching –
silvers your branches
It’s always best to observe it
my husband says
putting the telescope away
when part of it is hidden
you see more
*
This morning on my way to the clinic
I drove past fields of sunflowers
I marvelled at the sea of heads
tilted in uniform worship
On the drive back
they were looking straight up
open faces resplendent
exposed
*
Dear tree, I will never forget you –
(the grammar of promises
already pushing us apart)
*
The restaurant by the lake is serving antipasti del lago
which everyone agrees are delicious.
I pull down my mask to eat
*
In dark water
Pike sleep
discretely
disk-eyes open
bodies in perfect balance
*
I will surround myself with your memory, tree,
I will walk through you to find myself
*
The hot fingers of the night
percuss the surface of the lake for ills
a thousand green frogs answer
here and here and here
the waters are boiling
our home is shrinking
each summer these mud banks grow
*
Future perfect:
By the next new moon
I will have gone
*
Under a streetlamp
in a pool of yellow light
husks of chironomids pile higher
After a while
a waitress exits
the restaurant with a broom
Catherine Gander was born in England and lives in Ireland. Her recent poetry can be found in Poetry London, Palette, On the Seawall, Bad Lilies, and more. She is the author of Matches (forthcoming) and the co-author of Sea Between Us (Nine Pens Press 2022).