Poems of the week: Queritate, and A Boat

v. to question, to enquire

A blue moon weaves between clouds
that plot obscurity. I move from room
to room. At last, the clouds roll down reluctantly,
and I go out to watch its naked, long lament.
In Mariupol, in Gaza, who’s looking up?
Tonight, how many soldiers, their gaping mouths
as wild the lunar witness? Which gods to call on now?
The clouds collect their casualties of stars and moon.
And you, my brother, are you sleeping?

Afric McGlinchey’s most recent collection is À la belle étoile: The Odyssey of Jeanne Baré (Salmon)

A boat

A boat leaves lines upon the sea,
its own defined calligraphy
that stays for hours on the face.
But humans, when we sink below,
leave little sign of where we go,
a ripple that the waves erase.

John MacKenna is the author of 26 books, His latest novel, The Lock-keeper’s Wife, is published by The Lilliput Press