Mixed Fruit

by Michael Hurley

Dover as a land of executed mothers;
…………..children dressed as chimney
………………………sweeps, houses mounds
………………………………………along the road.
……………………………………………………..Dover
……………………………………………………..as the blind face of pride
…………………………………………………………….pitted with olive seeds
……………………………………………………………………………….and braille.

………..Dover
………..raised
………..from ashes
………..and drowned
………..like a timetable.

 ………………..Dover cliffless; the channel
…………………………..erodes the chalk,
……………………………………..the cliffs melt
……………………………………..the water turns white.

 ………………………Dover as Dover
……………………….as a land of arched doorways,
…………………………………bustling street shops,
…………………………………newspaper boys newspapering
…………………………………milkmen milking
…………………………………………..a woman smiles as she
…………………………………………..bargains with a crumpled pound note
……………………………………………………..for strawberries, which was,
………………………………………………………………..of course, years before

 ……………………………the flood, when
…………………………….all that’s left is Dover as

lighthouse torches
…………..holding their heads
…………..above the water, moaning
………………………………..do not sail here do not
…………………………………………….do not sail here, do not sail here,
…………………………………………………………do not sail here, we are graves.

*

Michael Hurley appreciates you reading his poems. He lives in Pittsburgh.

←back