Monday 20 June 2022

Five Poems by Nolcha Fox

 


A Cloud Is Not a Ghost

 

A cloud is not a ghost,

even when it glides,

a mist above the grass.

 

A cloud is not bound

to person or place,

a ghost stays close

to what he knows.

 

A cloud is fickle lover

of celestial bodies,

a fleeting kiss

dissolving.

 

You are not a cloud,

you are a ghost of desire,

a memory materialized,

a haunting caress.

 


Bread Crumbs

 

The words I write are bread crumbs,

each morsel the first word

that you might ever taste.

Put them in your mouth

and eat them.

 

The words I write are pearl bubbles,

rising from an underwater cavern,

bobbing on the surface of your mind.

Gather them in a net before 

they burst and disappear.

 

The words I write are starlight,

bright in orbit round your head

from an unknown sun.

Catch them in your hat

and they will sparkle in the dark.

 


Devious Dragons

 

They fly around 

my head in darkness, 

birthing cow licks 

and sleepless nights.

 

Their tails whip

chill winds that blow 

through open doors,

seep through windows.

 

They disguise themselves

as tangled yarn,

pull-top cream cartons 

that refuse to open.

 

They hide in the oven, 

their breath a fire 

that burns my hand.

 

My only weapons:

Sleeping dogs, 

muttered incantations,

and a spatula.

 


She’s Still Here

for Sharon and Gracie

 

She’s still here,

throwing dirty 

shoes into the 

washer.

 

She’s still here, 

wearing the same

sparkly dress she wore 

the last three days.

 

She’s still here,

Making hand art

on the windows, 

tossing dog food on the floor.

 

She’s still here, 

even though 

the house is quiet, 

the walls still hold her giggles.

 

She’s still here, 

I can hear her scamper,

I can still find sequins,

Long after she’s gone home.

 


Sandwich

 

Warning hands

hold together

the meat 

of innocence.

Mayonnaise

glues all my

unsung sorrows

to laugh-track

comedies on late

night TV.

I layer cheese

and French fries

between

my losses,

to protect myself

from separation

and grief.


previously published by OneBlackBoyLikeThat Review

 



Nolcha Fox has written all her life, starting with poop and crayons on the walls. Her poems have been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Alien Buddha Zine, The Red Lemon Review, Gone Lawn, Dark Entries, Duck Head Journal, Medusa’s Kitchen and others. Her chapbook, “My Father’s Ghost Hates Cats,” is available on Amazon.


 

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