Let the street below catch

the scent of us, watch the canopies

of market stalls lift up,

heat rises but it must be stoked.

You sip from the cup freshly

brewed, ground Arabica

beans flick the blood of morning.

We hear children

running below, a simple game

of hide and seek, an easy choice

when all covers are pulled back

and we repeat for as long as we can;

passion, sleep, feed, pass…

Southern Cross

Roque Alonso, Paraguay July 2006

We left the world inside the church hall,

asleep in bunk beds below mosquito nets,

and sat out under the unending drape of stars.

We imagined being at the edge of the world,

and being able to see further beyond that,

finding a copious peace in the limitless.

And this conversation feels like if it was

the only conversation ever exchanged

it would be reason enough for creation.

You become everyone I have ever talked with

on the meaningful things, the reasons why,

and how this world could be put right.

But this moment unfolds; we do not direct it,

we couldn’t, we sit insignificant yet crucial

for these constellations blink just for us,

I feel the eyes of a father who watches

as his children smile at the moon

like a mobile in a cot always turning, singing,

moving above our rapt heads.

The Rabbits

For Rhonda

They weave in and out of the undergrowth,

picking up more courage each time,

keeping each other in sight

as they cut through the grass.

The world is oblivious to them

and they to it, fenced off in this isthmus

from the motorway, the movement

of man’s machinery, functional

lacks the grace and adventure

of the rabbits irregular dance.

The bus begins to pull away,

and as it gathers speed I place

my hand to the window, I hope

to catch one last glimpse

and one is there, head poking out

nose twitching, picking up a scent.

Glen Wilson lives in Portadown, Co Armagh with his wife Rhonda and children Sian and Cain. He has been widely published having work in The Honest Ulsterman, Foliate Oak, Iota, Boyne Berries, North West Words, Snapdragon Journal, Blue Max Review, The Screech Owl, Yellow Chair Review,  A New Ulster and The Interpreters House amongst others. In 2014 he won the Poetry Space competition and was shortlisted for the Wasafiri New Writing Prize. He was runner up in the Glebe House Harmony Trust poetry competition in 2015. His work also appeared in the 2015 Making MemoriesAnthology and in The Stony Thursday Book 2015.

He is currently working on his first collection of poetry.

Twitter @glenhswilson, glenhswilson@facebook.com

The post Poems by Glen Wilson first appeared on Prachya Review.