(1) September Dusk. (2) Cabbage Fly. revised. (3) Love. (4) The Lion.

               1.

  September Dusk.


September evening

The sky like
a Chinese painting

black boughs
dropping
paper leaves



The copper sun
washed out
turning ochre

a bruised apple
burst
on the hard earth

tainted

breaking down



I walk alone              in the cold air

trying to get used              to my loneliness



It is now six weeks
since you died

Passed
like a withered flower
out of my life

yet tonight
I am sensing
the pressure of your soft breath
nudging my cheek

Your hand         clutching mine

warm as a midsummer morning


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 7th. - 14th. 2015.

----------------------------------------

                2

       Cabbage Fly. (Revised).


White as my notepad
I am tempted to write on your wings
A miniature monograph
On the history of flight.

But the moment I enter the Hot House
You seem to get wind of my meaning
And flit right up to the ceiling
Where you sit tight until I leave.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 3rd. - 4th. - September. 10th. 2015.

---------------------------------------------

               3.

            Love.


Birthday gift
Secret
No more

Ribbons undone
Spread over the floor

A glass of wine
Spilt on the table

A torn cushion

A slammed door


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 5th. - 17th. 2015.

-----------------------------------------

                4

         The Lion.



"It was a legal hunt"
The white man said.

The lion did not think so.

The lion is now dead.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 7th. 2015.