This week’s poems are by Gillian Fisher and Eileen Donovan.
IF TOAD HADN’T TIRED OF BOATING
He would have enjoyed the Broads. They’re boating’s promised waters, with willow-shaded swards. He’d fascinate innkeepers’ daughters as he did the prison maid, and truly earn his pint of porter by not being dull or staid. He’d have to bring his breakfast things because pubs’ closed doors dissuade him from a too-early landing. He could add to the Ducks’ Ditty, reciting the bittern, standing in reedbeds. Sounds, though not pretty rove across the Fens for miles. That has the naive quality or blowing bottle-necks, for a while.
A SECRET PLACE
He died. And her heart broke. In a secret place it lay in pieces. And his name she never spoke. She learnt to smile and carry on. The world nodded and approved. They said ‘How strong and brave’. But she only heard the silence from the grave. Weeks and months passed. Then the years. Nobody saw her tears. But in a secret place, where time ceases, her heart still lay in broken pieces.