2 poems by Lincoln Jaques

Lincoln Jaques’ poetry and fiction appear in Mother Mary Comes to Me: A Pop Culture Poetry Anthology (Madville Publishing), a fine line (NZ Poetry Society), The Blue Nib, Mayhem, Shot Glass Journal, Poetry New Zealand Yearbook, and Flash Frontiers. He lives in Auckland.

MEMORY

Woke up to sun this morning, the first sun

in a week. The trees seemed to open their 

leaves, stretch themselves, yawn achingly.

A magpie swooped across the overgrown lawn,

a cyclone of black and white feathers.

The warmth takes me back to Delhi, in the hotel 

that grew a forest in its foyer, the smell of manure 

floating around our room. One night I awoke from 

a dream in which I was trying to escape that forest. 

Past midnight, the temperature outside still over 35,

the loose rivets of the air-conditioner interrupting

our sleep patterns. I left you snoozing and pulled

open a curtain, letting in the light of the city –

there’s always light in that city, it never fades. 

The window shielded us from the struggle outside: 

the lit braziers of the kebab sellers, the dim bulbs

of the masala tea houses, couples huddled 

in booths, men collapsed across the seats 

of rickshaws, stray dogs sniffing at rubbish 

swept into street corners, a woman on a bicycle 

her crimson sari floating out behind like a tree on fire. 

You sigh, roll over on the mattress to cool 

your warmed side. The stars unhinge themselves,

falling and settling like sediment in a sluggish universe. 

THE DISAPPEARED

Air corrodes the colour from clouds

a beating butterfly spins into

rainwater, falls into the sun

reflected in the 

pool.

Deep in the earth the bats 

are dying, deeper than a tree’s

roots the worms are retreating.

Our own lives intersect into

raptures.

A denuded saint wept in the sand dunes

I saw the blood flowing from his 

temples. I saw the thorn dig into

his side. I saw the rib a cradle of

Christ.

It rained the morning we 

entered Zagreb. The church spires

caught the early sunlight; so many

we used them to count out our lost

loves. 

The butterfly breathed in an entire 

universe, a microcosm lost between 

the many times we arrive, balancing

the many times we need to

depart.

Now that you're here

The Blue Nib believes in the power of the written word, the well-structured sentence and the crafted poetic phrase. Since 2016 we have published, supported and promoted the work of both established and emerging voices in poetry, fiction, essay and journalism. Times are difficult for publishers, and The Blue Nib is no exception. It survives on subscription income only. If you also believe in the power of the written word, then please consider supporting The Blue Nib and our contributors by subscribing to either our print or digital issue.

On Astráil

Poetry by Wendy Dunn

Wendy Dunn Poetry
Australian novelist and poet, Wendy J Dunn, lures you through a delicate poetic meditation on the nature of creativity, reminding us that each artistic creation is an act of courage.

Poetry by Geoffrey Forrester

Poetry by Geoffrey Forrester
Under the softly expert eye of Australian poet Geoffrey Forrester (Tug Dumbly), the simple ritual of a common haircut is delved into and its implications expanded in a way that cannot fail to delight!

A Poem By Brett Dionysius

Poe By Brett Dionysius 1
Australian poet Brett Dionysius coaxes us back in time to the burial of a plant by an Ice Age squirrel, and how that plant may feel to be ‘woken’ from a 32,000-year-old sleep.

1 POEM BY FRASER MACKAY

1 POEM BY FRASER MACKAY
Australian poet Fraser Mackay dances in the space between regret and speculation, expertly exploring the unsettled nature of relationships while leaving us with a lingering sense of hope.

2 poems by Daragh Byrne

Poems by Daragh Byrne
Irish-born, Daragh Byrne has lived in Sydney for a decade. He writes informed by a longstanding meditation practice and his background in physics.

Editor of An Astraíl, Denise O’Hagan selects poetry from new and established voices in Austrailia and New Zealand and is constantly searching for fresh and innovative voices in poetry from Ireland or The United Kingdom: Submit to An Astraíl.

1 COMMENT

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

Recent Comments

Recently on An Astraíl

Poetry by Moya Pacey

Moya Pacey co-edits the on-line journal, 'Not Very Quiet'
ISSUE 42

Issue 42
Get unlimited digital access for just  €7.50 P/Quarter

Get access now
Terms and Conditions apply
close-link
Click Me