New Poetry by Michele Seminara

Mourning Morning 

My mother's house surrounds 
me in a shroud: the tinkling 
of the teaspoon as my father stirs 
his tea, his tea; the chug of the washing machine 
that never dies. The tubular wind chimes casting
their cool auric spell around us; the complaint 
of the floorboards bearing up our lives.
And the busyness, of the birds in bush nearby... I

lie with eyes shucked open, not turning
to what waits to be let in. 
I hear the phone shriek—and again— 
then footsteps up the hall; the sound
of hesitation at the door—
as I elongate this moment,
try to dwell inside before. 


- Michele Seminara 2015


Michele Seminara is a Sydney poet and Managing Editor of Verity La.