[Poetry] Two Poems by Nora Kirkham

Interlude

There is a long sea

that burns blue beyond

the pine road to my house.

I heard a knock on my door

each morning for a year

as the fog dripped in,

and wondered if I would be less

beautiful for not opening it.

How long will I wait for this

to happen again?

In the meantime, I sleep alone

undercover, curl

my hands below my chin,

and almost pray

for the blue to come back,

to charge through doubt

with a blast of northern wind,

and a love that knocks

blood back into my hiding face.

Sealskin

There was no clear reason why

I dove back into invisibility.

First, the wind was constant,

brushing my bare arms like thistles.

I drowned in his night swims

and stood inside over a stew,

stirring fish as white flesh fell

from their bones.

He brought me pocketfuls of sea glass

and I peered through the blue frost,

wavering and wavering

at the threshold.

I tossed wet seaweed on the fire as he slept.

The hearth hissed with hot salt.

I dug my hand through the dark sand

until it turned to silver fur.

I took my sealskin back to break

the surface of my living sea and lived.

Nora Kirkham is a poet from Maine who holds a Master's in Creative Writing from University College Cork and an M.Litt. in Theology and the Arts from the University of St Andrews. Her poetry is inspired by the coastal landscapes of Ireland, Scotland, Australia, and Maine and can be found in Arboreal Magazine, Tokyo Poetry Journal, Ruminate, Peregrine, and Sheepshead Review.