Poetry Drawer: Two Poems by Isabelle Kenyon

The tutor

I listen close, knotting thread through my fingers,
focus on the disruntled cock of your head:
“you’re fidgeting again”,
shrug the shiver of wanting to hold comfort in my grasp
but fuel thirst for scrutiny.

Tremor of hand, you analyse to alienate me until–
I feel my limbs disconnect and
fall heavy
weighted by your speared pupils:
a broken woman picks, picks, picks away
at the fleshy upturned belly of a young girl,
soft skin–with time
she will grow the armour to fight this woman.

Florence tourist

Quiltwork faces collide
we witness, feel
stomach swelling
toasting, square
stuffed with selfie sticks –
there a man lies supine painting film
her slow-motion street dance,
flashing backdrop of cathedral.
Brash voices shoot code
new language of Google maps
hands navigate bars to golden doors
worship flicker on Facebook
as night pales to calls
distinctly English
we wonder where locals hide
from storming feet.

Isabelle Kenyon is northern poet and the author of Digging Holes To Another Continent (Clare Songbirds Publishing House). She is the editor of Fly on the Wall Press. Her poems have been published in poetry anthologies by Indigo Dreams Publishing, Verve Poetry Press, and Hedgehog Poetry Press. Her book reviews, articles and blog posts have been published in various places such as Neon Books, Authors Publish, Harness magazine and Five Oaks Press.

Leave a Reply