Poetry: Selections From Ewen Glass

Arcade

 

We thought in moments,

gilded capture of spike and

trough, naked as insides.

 

See what cross-sections make:

blocks of past, a little bounce 

and give like tofu or halloumi.

 

A god man asks for labels,

his partners do too; here’s a 

daughter that never knew. 

 

Obituary tired, she signs off 

on moments, the necessary 

capture of spike and trough,

 

greater arc and chancel arch, 

two anecdotes and a generic

set of dates for the ceremony.

 

His was an era. He was a time.

Whatever way you slice it.

 

 

 

Self Help

 

I took my old self out back 

and throttled him;

returned alone and current;

six people commented

on how fresh I looked.

The muscles around

my thumb ached.

 

 

 

My Brother Prepares Word Salad

 

Voice of pepper and reason cuts through

why people get together, stay together.

 

Didn’t he mourn someone? I ask but
his lips close like that’s not relevant.

 

We loved sherbet flying saucers as kids, 

cardboard melting in the mouth like bravado.

 

He’s alone now, will be alone; that might 

just be easier to digest but when it all melts

 

I want to be sweet in talking at least, as he cuts 

through why people get together, stay together,

 

addressing love in radish tones.

 

 

 

Positive

 

The abaxial 

side of leaves, 

 

water retained 

for hope,

 

which sleeps 

in the dark;

 

wakes recharged.

 

 

 

 

 

Ewen Glass (he/him) is a screenwriter and poet from Northern Ireland who lives with two dogs, a tortoise and a body of self-doubt; his poetry has appeared in the likes of Okay Donkey, Maudlin House, HAD, Poetry Scotland and One Art Poetry.