A journal of semi-detached poetry.

Tamara Franks - Poems (2)

Tireless Maid

seashrieks carry their dew
to every morning to our
lonesome morning, with all
the lavender cobbles and
wet ruts. it is much too
busy this morning to worry
about her coat, sanded
to a fine shine. she carries
her languid burden, studded
with white buoys and pearls,
to my little piece of shore.

the evening bathes itself
     in leftover pink sky.
the seagulls roost
     with their wings entwined
like seaweed,    like driftwood
like some summer child
     draped in down

          i forget

where the tide goes when it leaves the warm gulf.
i leave bits of straw behind (for them, for the birds),
       watch the waves riddle out a work song
some latched-on song, some song sung
   so that the sea can sing no other

Truth Emerges From Her Well


          amassing the amorous,

a gala of riddles, arranged and rearranged like the father of his father and his father and so on
through a gallery of portraits swathed in grey

     I am becoming what I have seen in your clandestine mirror,
     a story of the oak and rowan, leavened, I am followed
     by an oracle of kings. memories erased, a woman rises
     with my face like truth screaming from the well of discontent

(Text © Tamara Franks - Publication: August/September 2017)



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