PICKINGS

Samples of poetry from NHI publications

FIRES AND THE COMET
	We followed it the night before, you almost veered off the road searching its brilliant spray, facts you had to hand switching thoughts to ice and gas: its tail melting, each particle a year and the dust we leave behind, how much of it is swept away; its size from here to London. We drive towards it: the illusion of seeing its movement. Nothing except smoke and flames consuming stars,moon and the comet we'll never witness again. Those firestarters,those prodigies of emptiness behind the boards must look proudly upon this: trees,bracken and heather burning, white arches of the graveyard blackened,as ashes are falling on lawn memorials each the size and shape of a classroom.
MIKE JENKINS