A journal of art + literature engaging with nature, culture, the environment & ecology

Two poems by Rachel Cunniffe

Rachel Cunniffe, England

 

Abandoned  

 

The shortest day in June

was a blackout at 4 p.m.

A coal-eyed dog 

swimming in an inky sea. 

 

The longest day in December 

was a white sea at midnight.

Full moon reflecting 

iron blue snow.

 

Rum weather—

a parentless, half-grown mammal.

 


 

Flood  

Rachel Cunniffe 

 

 

Water distends through brown fields.  

The invisible vole and kingfisher endure 

rain flattening grass. Snowdrops remain.

 

Webbed footprint—one-legged mallard?  

A pheasant shoots a cacophony.

The soft-mouthed dog doesn’t worry.  

His time will come.  

 

 

Come—will time? His worry doesn’t dog this soft-mouthed 

cacophony. Shoots? Pheasant, mallard? 

 

One-legged footprint, webbed remains. Snowdrop, grass.

The flattening rain endures. Kingfisher. Vole invisible. 

The fields brown, through itself the water distends. 


  

Rachel Cunniffe is based in the North East of England, and has an MA in Writing Studies gained in 1995 from Edgehill University College. Working for 16 years stifled her creativity, and recently, she has been able to partially retire and spend more time writing again. She has been a member of several creative writing groups, one of which has been in existence since 1991. She lives with a large black dog and two cats.

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