Poetry

 

 

Helen Ivory

Trampoline

My sister and I are on trampolines
and have been warned to keep to the X.
If we jump high enough
we can see the sea which for its part,
seems to be going the wrong way.

A bucket of windmills
blurs against the steady breeze
and I catch the eye of a gull
who seems also to have noticed
the strange behaviour of the sea.
It begins to laugh
as I try to steady myself on the X.

 

Her Uncle's New House

Her parents had gone there for serious talks
but the dumb waiter spent all night
conveying food though the storeys.

The head of a pig, cooked till its eyes
were cataract milky, jaw fallen open
to a wise-cracking grin.

A rabbit blancmange wobbling
through each jolt of the hoist,
fiercely trying to keep a straight face.

 

 

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