New Poetry by Robert Ford

 

In order to think  

 

I have had to empty the room completely. 

The shed skins of scattered clothing got folded  

into piles or hung from pegs in the hallway, 

dangling their toes at various heights. 

The radio is sulking, a hiss of mithering static  

wedged in the embrace of the nearest tree. 

All the unread books, bills and letters, 

are loaded into the stove, a yawn of flames 

turning them to ash and smoke, while the  

remains of last night’s dinner have been  

fed to the expectant pig out in the yard.  

I have swept the floor until it wept for mercy, 

using its tears to mop myself into a corner. 

All that remains is the chair by the window, 

angled into the light, where I sit, waiting for 

the to and fro of footsteps; the nervous babble 

of laughter; the soft, apologetic knocking of  

freshly-hatched thoughts at the door behind me. 

- © Robert Ford 2020

Robert Ford's poetry has appeared in print and online publications in the UK, US and elsewhere, including Under the Radar, Brittle Star, Dime Show Review, The Interpreter's House and San Pedro River Review. More of his work can be found at https://wezzlehead.wordpress.com/