3 New Poems by Dorothy Simmons

AT THE RACES

Sweat scuffs stop watched tendons,

Smears thoroughbred hides; the horses

Somnambulate stallward, slack

As exhaustion.

The bay mare baulks, shudder-sways.

Dismounted, unhinged, legs buckle and fold,

Eyes roll, then bulge sightless;

Mute nostrils scream.

The tidal crowd spills over the course

… over splayed legs exposing such soft

shrivelled teats… then ebbs.  Time to lay

Their next bet.

HOMO POETICALIS

At the town library, the visiting poet

will read from his latest work –

his slender volume, post-itted pages –

to a reverend clutch of middle aged women.

He breathes slowly in.

A patter of welcoming palms: he bows,

discreet as any waiter, and –

bespectacled, bony – slow turns to post-it one,

breathes in and starts to read.  Aloud.

Homo Poeticalis.

In his echo chambered brain, a

strung out vocal cord stutters and stuffs

– wincing, adjusting his specs – the crucial last line.

Breathe in: hold.  An oblivious patter of palms.

Time for coffee and cake.

Dorothy Simmons Poetry

About the contributor

Dorothy Simmons is an Irish-Australian teacher/writer living in Albury, NSW. Her published works include YA novels, historical fiction, short stories and most recently microfiction. Poetry has always been important to her – a lyrical lifeline.

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