New Poetry by C S Hughes

Aberdeen Street

On Aberdeen street
   the steps go up
       and back in time
                      steep work
                              for a man
           with a knotwood walking stick
      snail-bent and watching
the calligraphy of foot-worn stone

                  In the morning dark
a cat shape disappears
                    a sawtooth fear
                          leaves wittering
       a whine in the ears
               a shadow sinters
as quickly gone

Cattle-eyed
                  words muttering
a shawl of beetled wings
       stretched against the burgeoning resistance
  of day’s upward climb
            they take a stymied flight

           You sour apples
                      he says to her
   all crowcraw bright
             forgetting she is gone and bittersweet
       as burnt sugar and cinnamon

        She swallows proffered morsels
                      head tossed back
  then bird-replies, replete

                   You know a crow
    is just a songbird
            if you listen past the laughter
   
with a broken heart


- © C S Hughes 2020

C S Hughes grew up by Sydney’s beaches, and Tamworth’s cattle yards. He attended schools for a penance, was duly martyred. He worked for a short while, selling books and spices, hit several roads quite hard, dropped out of numerous institutions, got lost inside a book, occasionally emerges to write a poem or photograph long past days. He now lives with a cat and an historian in south east Gippsland, Victoria, where he sometimes publishes books, but mostly just watches how the green green hills mirror jealously passing clouds.