Mandy Macdonald – three poems

Sunday morning, Tegucigalpa

full of old avocado trees
and the papery shacks of the poor
the valley floor engulfs the church bells’
hopeful messages
launched from the opposite slope

reaching between travelling clouds the sun strikes
an outcrop iced with livid grass, a tongue
of temporary emeralds in the city
of dusty white, terracotta, bitter chocolate

alone, by my high window
I stitch into memory
our meetings and partings
measured in chaste kisses
like the numbered strokes of bells


hitching on the autobahn

Nearing the ton
in a blue BMW
strobing cornfields
shimmered with summer
lightning
through the crash barrier. Rain strafed us
and i was thinking of Neruda
the taste of rain and mountains
and of making love with you
a hundred miles an hour


So I said to her, I said

’dyer see that Stevie Wonder’s expecting triplets?
well, his tottie is, haha
s’pose they’ll call them something stupid
weird names these slebs give their kids
bloody silly, ’fyou ask me
Dweezil, Peaches, Satchel, fer eff’s sake
’magine having to go through school called Dweezil
no wonder they top themselves
might as well call them Crimplene, Terylene and Dralon
that’s what my Corteena says


Mandy Macdonald is an Australian writer living in Aberdeen and trying to make sense of the 21st and earlier centuries. She has had poems published here and there in print and online, including Outlook Variable (Grey Hen Press, 2015), Lunar Poetry, Poetry Scotland, Pushing Out the Boat, The Fat Damsel, Word Bohemia, Snakeskin, Triadae, The Stare’s Nest, Nutshells & Nuggets, and I Am Not A Silent Poet. The rest of the time, she sings.

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