New Poetry- Edward Lee

IN THE DARKNESS THERE IS REST

In the wall
above every bed
I have ever lay upon
there is a window
so well hidden
not even the night
can find it,
leaving me with a lifetime
full of insomnia,
the relentlessly seeking sunlight
forever flooding the room.

 

NAME(LESS)

They separated us
at the border,
the nameless and the named.

I took two steps
to the named
but a skinless hand
stopped me,
a voice in my ear
saying I was without a name,
and must return
to my origin
and find the name given me
before I was named
by those without authority.

And so I find myself
back at the beginning,
searching for my name,
only finding nameless ones,
so many nameless ones,
their arms open,
welcoming me,
their embraces all too familiar.

 

STILL

Your coffin bought
before you were born,
the smallest one made
yet still too big
for your still form.

Such cruel earth,
swallowing a body
too small
for the box
that was its first and last home.

 

THE EIGHT DAY WEEK

You died on a day
outside of the week,
your funeral unattended
because those that knew
of your demise,
and they were few,
could not decide
if they should bury you
or name this undiscovered day
in your honour.

Either would have appealed to you,
I know,
while I also know,
you would have said neither,
just for the sake of seeding confusion
one last, knife-twisting time.

 

THE DOOR OF THE WORLD

There is blood on the steps
leading to the door
of the world,
and small footprints
leading nowhere.

An imaginary murder
occurred here,
before the door of the world,
with imaginary witnesses
and imaginary statements
taken by imaginary policemen.

But the blood is real,
its lead smell
proving itself to the nostrils,
and the back of the throat.
Yes the blood is real,
leading up the steps
and under the door
that opens into the world,
when it isn’t locked,
as it is now,

its keyhole a nightmare
of cobwebs and rust.

About the contributor

Edward Lee lives in Galway. His debut poetry collection, 'Playing Poohsticks On Ha’penny Bridge', was published last year by Spider Press. His second collection Sleep is due from the same publisher in 2011.

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