Issue 12 · 2009


from a haunting


three sonnets


  by Nathan Thompson





meet me in the morning



in the style of going forwards      sunrise

over your covered tracks      trees are starting

to believe again in songs and whispers

the visitors’ book says I’ve been here before

delicate letters in the crevices

lope across the page      they stick to your window

rubbing your eyes      stars as echoes

clarity insists on bloodhounds veering

towards saints      she is      stained glass

aspirations of presence      I wonder why

the keys have fallen out of your strong grip

and the police photographer follows slowly

wringing his hands      ‘innocence progressing’

a still      then leave off explanations







on your nerve



ideas of series      we date your letters

to our moods      Paris it is summer

February over Moscow      we keep

tight to your paths      sweet-shops close their doors

it will be fortuitous if your poem

lists galleries where we emptied flowers

hopeful for music      but it is quiet here

stuck out of sight of the first picture

you bite the peel from a cool apple      ‘good luck

with the circus’      we will be too late I fear

if I tell you my sides are forgeries

you gather their disparate profiles

aboard the yacht      it is possible

October 1st you last wrote      how we laughed







two paintings of a window box



I’m tuned to      a month’s time passes      can ‘I’

ever really be ‘us’      you are here      me too

three globes of porcelain imitating

fruit      today the animals have left the zoo

behind      their pronouns peek out from

songs imagining      ‘very far’      is

something from the back of the sofa      but look!

a monkey’s found my copy of Shakespeare

it’s your present!      a year ago      discreetly

an item in this catalogue just as

half-inviting turned into a portrait     

            playing in the park      taking a cast

of a tree leafing      does that mean autumn

or spring to lick your fingers for direction





Nathan Thompson grew up in Cornwall and studied at the University of Exeter, where he later lectured part time in Musicology.  He now lives in Jersey.  Recent work has appeared in Green Integer Review, Stride Magazine, and A Samizdat for Lee Harwood (Artery Editions).  A first collection, the arboretum towards the beginning, was published by Shearsman in September 2008. 


E · Poetry Journal