New Poetry by Grant Cochrane

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Ages shift. Now, gowns of snow

chill earth’s warm glow. It sifts,

forbids, unnests;

invokes a fear as queer as aqua,

or a leap year.

Smell

the freshness of those frozen steppes,

the white, the yellow yolk, the fractured

shell, the collateral omelette. Smell.

Smell it like an animal smells,

smell it with your synapses.

Hunt through the void. Seek a trail. There! The freshness yields.

Harsh nature’s feast is

stale.

- Grant Cochrane 2015

Grant Cochrane is a Queensland writer whose work has appeared in Southerly (forthcoming) and Seizure.