Nana Ollerenshaw: Three Poems
Streetbird
Brush turkeys have migrated from the brush
to take up their new habitat with us
like pigeons must have once
and sparrows who share coffee.
They peck on asphalt now.
Megapodes don’t need
their giant feet for this.
But something’s sad about them,
unconnected to a place where they were wild once,
the peaty earth their own, leaf mounds,
stars on forest nights
exchanged for this concrete.
Nana Ollerenshaw
Men on Bikes
Bikes lean
stopped at cafes
where the men
hang out, brothers
bright as birds,
shorts that show
the curve of braided muscle,
sculptured thigh.
Who knows how far
behind them lies
the ribbon of their wheels
from years of sharing talk
roads and sweat,
dawns, fatigue,
a spank of tyre on the wet.
Yesterday’s Bike Ride
The blue day lingers
after the gravel road,
the hills,
the valley filled with cane,
after the country homes,
the cluck of fowl,
the scrunch of tyres
and always the road
spelling the heat and the…
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