Three Poems
Jon Kemsley
road sense
is knowing howto map a route in real time
these are the parameters
the very small and the very far away
gears biting you drop the brake
star struck, sparked into life
white hot flashes at the horizonsplitting out like cells
station follows station
in finding one thing you lose another
dropped back, dashed off
dead words raised contrast high
slow hands as you pull ahead
object lesson in relative velocity
parallels in sharp convergenceevery junction like the last
congress
distant
so seeking
penitent
and polite
warmth
where just before
now vacant
hand to mouth
thus blessed
cloth snags
stifled breath
condenses
surface tension
one who was
hesitates then
reaches out
in stillness
skin shook free
settles briefly
pinpoint prickle
pores opened
eyes wide
nostrils
even lips
edged in light
hands together
guided so
anointed
shift
we meet so rarely these days
and under such few illusions
for that which brings you closer
then carries me off immediately
from somewhere near the top
of the world or so you tell me
almost nothing and if you wear
your hair up or down (or down
is best) you are almost always
several silent floors above me
Jon Kemsley has been published in the Fiction Pool, New World Writing, New Reader Magazine, Ellipsis, Neon and others. He lives and works on the south coast of England, listens to old jazz records and occasionally remembers to call his brother about whatever it was he promised to do the last time.