Dawn Colsey is a teacher and poet and has been a student of theology for the last 6 years. She finds creative expression rewarding when her poetry integrates these aspects of her life.
Alzheimer Aunt
Frantic I rummage
for lost meaning.
Distracted, stuff in drawers
life’s plastic detritus.
Swear that I hate living,
rail that I still live.
Loathe my unkempt house,
vow that I’ll never leave it
till they carry me out in a box.
Fill the fridge with foodless cartons,
leave steak to rot on top.
Curse the women who obsess me,
forever breaking in,
stealing the skirt I didn’t buy,
and the lid of my teapot.
Why?
I’m Phoebe, goddess of the moon,
reflecting on the past
with perfect clarity.
Askew, alone in the sky of present.
The future dim, unknown,
as I tip over
a darkening horizon.
From Friendly Street No. 17
Seven Degrees
Thin sun fails to warm
a clear sky.
Cold sweeps across
Victoria Racecourse.
Mist smokes up from turf.
The corner pub’s tight-lipped.
In shorts, thin shirt
open under scant old cardigan
he bends to scrounge the cast-off cans
from icy grass.
Eyes search, unthinking.
Mouth droops open.
Breath and hope
escape him.
From Friendly Street No. 20
Rejoicing Through the Window
The moon, embarrassed at her brilliant plenitude,
veils one segment in cloud.
Cannot help but light a bank of herringbone.
Throws into stark silhouette
my ancient apricot tree
dancing her joy
in the Easter wind.
From Friendly Street No. 22