3 Poems by Dominic Fisher


You walk into an ordinary room

catch sight of another

where the wind is flat

sunshine ricochets

letters turn back and

books start at their endings


You face both ways

across your own skin

you see windows 

in the wet of your eyeballs

thin blood tributaries

one figure in each black pond


You ask yourself

how you might pass through

a four millimetre

thickness of glass


where half of eternity hangs

in a sheet of silver

and your double vibrates

when you cry or sing 


where you will both vanish

if you turn out the light

snapback into being

if you switch it back on


And then you remember

the boy in the story

who drank his reflection 


Bramble-tongued, beaks like scissors

their blind thickets stinking of fox

these are the same night birds

that sang the child you were to sleep.

Beetles rummaging in the brainpan 

pipistrelles all but out of earshot

might be pinpointed, identified

placed on a scale from one to five.

No audiologist though

however kind or well equipped

could measure or detect 

this bubbling of faraway throats.

But these unrecorded species are 

still singing you towards the dark

through long unreachable summers

and the swift afternoons of winter.


When the world is not round

the sky is sea, the sea is sky.

When your habitation is an island

no bigger than a sandal or a hand

it hardly makes a difference

if it’s a whale after all.

And when the wind can drown you 

water light and air become one tide.

That tide goes out, stars appear

near enough to touch.

You could still be out there 

riding on the pulse and hiss

spinning through the crash and dazzle

in a hide and willow basket.

You’ll be needing strong arms though

to reach the evening star.

Dominic Fisher has been widely published in magazines and his poems have been broadcast on BBC Radio. In 2018 he was the winner of the Bristol Poetry Prize, and his collection The Ladies and Gentlemen of the Dead was published by The Blue Nib in March 2019.

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