SurVision Magazine / Jo Slade

Lie

There's a lie curled beneath the baby
When the moon enters her room
it swallows her –
but the lie pulls her back
by her pudgy toes
As the baby grows
she's brave enough to slay
the moon's sham of silver

Underground

The station emptied and filled
it was light then it grew dark

I stood for days on the same spot
I slept on my feet
I was waiting for a carriage of children

A voice overheard asked the question:
"Is this Liverpool Street station
is this my destination?"

A train appeared out of a dark tunnel
It was crowded with adults
and their stifling fears

Commuters pushed forward
as if in a dream
they flung books at doors
that wouldn't open
glazed eyes stared back at them

I stepped onto the tracks
I wandered the tunnels
to find a way out

A torch blazed a hole in the earth
I climbed up and like a seed
drifted into the world

Assassin

...is in his palace of faces
Night calms itself
steels itself like a stubborn child
There's a bird warbling in a tree
its pearl eye can be seen
like a moon through leaves
I sit in my hut and listen
I see known faces from every angle
shine like rain on windows
I grieve
Someone paces the turret
silent as a shadow
His gun raised
his bird coming into view

Jo Slade is a poet and painter from Limerick. She is the author of four books of poetry, including a French/English collection, Certain Octobers published in France. Her latest collection, City of Bridges, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2005. In 2003 she was nominated for the Prix Evelyne Encelot Ecriture Prize, Paris.

SurVision Magazine
Home Page \| About Us \| Submissions \| Archive \| Contributors \| Books \| Links
An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English. Issue Three JO SLADE Lie There's a lie curled beneath the baby When the moon enters her room it swallows her – but the lie pulls her back by her pudgy toes As the baby grows she's brave enough to slay the moon's sham of silver Underground The station emptied and filled it was light then it grew dark I stood for days on the same spot I slept on my feet I was waiting for a carriage of children A voice overheard asked the question: "Is this Liverpool Street station is this my destination?" A train appeared out of a dark tunnel It was crowded with adults and their stifling fears Commuters pushed forward as if in a dream they flung books at doors that wouldn't open glazed eyes stared back at them I stepped onto the tracks I wandered the tunnels to find a way out A torch blazed a hole in the earth I climbed up and like a seed drifted into the world Assassin ...is in his palace of faces Night calms itself steels itself like a stubborn child There's a bird warbling in a tree its pearl eye can be seen like a moon through leaves I sit in my hut and listen I see known faces from every angle shine like rain on windows I grieve Someone paces the turret silent as a shadow His gun raised his bird coming into view Jo Slade is a poet and painter from Limerick. She is the author of four books of poetry, including a French/English collection, Certain Octobers published in France. Her latest collection, City of Bridges, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2005. In 2003 she was nominated for the Prix Evelyne Encelot Ecriture Prize, Paris.
Copyright © 2018 SurVision Magazine