B.T. Joy

In Issue 7 on August 22, 2011 at 12:27 pm


       imagine their voices
through splintered sun

       hair, even dark, glittering auburn
in the low light of autumn

       imagine the show of colour
that streaked the early skies of their childhoods;
their first loves, fumbling and clasped on wanting,

       imagine they have children of their own
and pale haired parents waiting in dim rooms
for the call that brings good news

       mists of rain on evening walks, hands coupled,
to a restaurant where they’ll sit, over candle-flame and wine,
talking with younger voices about the times they spent

       the dance and the delirious noise
when even dust carried the scent of iron, of charged blood
of life burning hard and the peat-smoke rising in September wind

       their love making, long into the night
the matronly moon and her shine on shining bodies
sweat and heat and the absence of memory coiling
even through the depths of the season
now imagine them old friends to that moon
sat in the house they bought, silent as aphids on the leaf,
waiting perhaps for their call, for their good news

       the news that doesn’t come in the dead of sleep
from mortuary waiting rooms or, in the still morning,
from a ministry desk dispensing commiserations

       imagine they are human beings
imagine what that means


B.T. Joy is a Glaswegian poet who received his Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and Film Studies in 2009. He has written two volumes of haiku: In The Arms Of The Wind and The Reeds That Tilt The Sky, as well as having poetry published in Obsessed With Pipework, Toasted Cheese, Presence, Canon’s Mouth, Paper Wasp, Sketchbook, Bottle Rockets, Mu and Frogpond. He has been an administrator, a ranch hand, a writing mentor, a farmer and a salesman; living and working in Glasgow, London and the USA.

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