I might write
a poetry bite
upon your thigh.
You are my green dream
in a wistful city.
*
Rachel McAlpine
writing
I can’t forget
I think of you
and lose my list
of groceries.
I can’t forget
the corners
of your mouth.
*
Rachel McAlpine
A love poem
A love poem will
debate
inflate
illuminate
exaggerate
negate and dissipate
the love that’s lurking
just below
the poem.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Love is a fine
Love is a fine
fat, grounded word
all above board.
Like me. I will not write
a poem for you.
I will not!
*
Rachel McAlpine
In my skull
My skull is an occupied
sofa. When someone
makes a home in your head—
no room for poems.
*
Rachel McAlpine
The poetry class
Tiger words and kitten words.
Allusion and plagiarism.
Repetition and retraction.
Patterns and shocks.
Rip out the murderous.
Break the relentless.
Quip over cleverness.
Stop the clocks.
Perfectly perfect?
Chuck it away.
Rich and rubbishy?
Chocks away.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poem about money
The poems I have lost are many
and many and many and more.
For instance, where is that
jingle about suspenders?
Now I am writing poems
about money. Poor money.
No one writes poetry for you:
there isn’t any.
*
Rachel McAlpine
I’ve got a poem
I’ve got a poem half written
like I’ve got a new lover
and I don’t want to say who he is
yet.
Wherever it is, the poem is the centre
of the room. All the time
I am making the bed, going for a jog,
taking a shower,
the poem rings.
Can it wait? What’ll I say?
A thin flame runs up my legs.
On the bus I think of other poems.
Now I have six half-written.
I am a slut
with petrol in my hair.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poetry pips
Squish the words.
Spit the pips.
That’s a poem.
Not the squish
but the pips.
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poem in a phone
Squash a sonnet
to a pellet
with a mallet.
Did it!
*
Rachel McAlpine
Poems in the wild—Rachel McAlpine 