Suzanne Edgar: Two Poems

Edge

In the sleepy midday quiet of the living room

I hear an intermittent murmur; a mutter.

A gale’s got under the heel of the front door,

making a quiet rumble, nothing more.

The door speaks of how it’s set between

my time inside the house and the world out there;

how a green and lifeless thing’s become the portal

of our days, has witnessed so much family lore

for thirty years. The slam of this wooden slab

signals my darling is home from the lakes and safe.

As a final chore each night he locks, before

striding down the darkened corridor

to me, reading late in the great warm bed.

We lie together, twinned in sleep, until

eager for news, I creep to open our door

and read the morning sky for what it holds in store.

Suzanne Edgar