Three Poems by Edward Lee

 

PASSION(S)

 

The smell of rain in the air

elevated our animal natures

and we undressed

in the back garden

and fucked until the thunder rumbled

and lightning streaked

the sky, eventually returning

indoors where we shivered

ourselves dry 

in front of the just-lit fire,

human once more,

and almost bashful,

our cheeks red

from more than the cold,

our smiles like those of children

who are not sure

if their acts will be deemed

bad or good, or even judged at all.

 

 

 

 

ALL

 

A coffin that floats,

independent of shoulders,

is still a coffin,

a place to lay

our dead in,

a place we shall all

lie in, eventually,

though we may call it

a different name,

while eyes so dry

they barely exist

look down upon

our still forms,

like clouds promising

a different weather

than what was sworn.

 

 

 

USEFUL, FINALLY

 

Sunlight falls from the sky,

skewering our bodies,

locking us to the ground,

where, without water

or food, we plant roots

and blossom into 

the most wonderful colours

we have yet to grant names to.

 

Our true lives

begin then,

our mouths too full of pollen

to complain about

our lot in life.

 

We are better, 

truly, for our silence,

and the beauty 

of our pain, better

than we ever were before.

Edward Lee's poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and Poetry Wales. His poetry collections are Playing Poohsticks On Ha’Penny Bridge, The Madness Of Qwerty, A Foetal Heart and Bones Speaking With Hard Tongues. 

He also makes musical noise under the names Ayahuasca Collective, Orson Carroll, Lego Figures Fighting, and Pale Blond Boy.

His blog/website can be found at https://edwardmlee.wordpress.com