A Handful of Stones Poems

(The following poems have all appeared on the Handful of Stones poetry blog.)

The aphid lands on my hand with a tiny plop,

a miniscule green body I can barely see.

The wings are little slices of lace liked by light.

*

Poppies on the side of the railtracks at Mitcham Eastfields;

bloody red dollops against green tangle

and a grey-brown crumbling wall.

*

Above West Brompton Station

a muffled moon,

a smudged orange orb bleaching the fuzzy night.

*

The Thames at Battersea

sucked back from its muddy grey gums,

revealing splintered canines of rotting timber;

crumbling stone molars; chewed up refuse.

*

Posing in his orange-brown fur,

erect eats, staring into the foreground

forked by tall iron pylons tearing

the sky open over the tiny patch of Common.