Graham Allison – New Poems

Skeletal Manoeuvres

To be presented with the skeleton
when you were expecting
a living breathing beast

can be disconcerting

but it makes an impression

brings with it a stripped-down stylishness
of thrill and immediacy

which wanes

with repetition and your own aging

after you reach a certain point

the bones of a beast
the bones of a beast

they do not provide a full feast for all the senses



Enslaved at the galley bench
of her chair and desk;
her computer the cumbersome oar
she must wield in the water
of diary-making and correspondence;
she is chained to the beat
of the drum of her manager’s voice.

She was born to be a fishergirl
in the village of San Fernando
on the coast where olive trees
and vines grow in abundance.
A fishergirl afloat in her own boat
casting her nets to haul in supper.


In the Trophy Room

When someone
wins a new award
they bring it to
the Trophy Room
and place it on
one of the stands
at the far end,
then donning
goggles and ear-
protectors, they
take aim with a gun,
and shoot the shit
out of it.

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