Mayhem Literary Journal is generously sponsored for 2019 by Te Whare Wananga o Waikato, The University of Waikato

Marine Parade - Therese Lloyd

Last night I was surprised by the moon
that it exists
out there in the open
so stealable.
I watched it stealthily
not for too long,
but lifted by some kind of inner unrest
a stillness on fire
in this town where the earth moves
on shift rotation
and fantails merrily sing to your death.
The moon is a cocky apparition –
who does this? Gives grief to the moon
drinks a bottle of Christmas brandy
while someone’s busy cooking a turkey?
I do I suppose, just a small town kid
thinking of the time I dropped a cough lollie
in the sand and bam! Mum took a photo.
Dreams of playing Lear, of being a man,
of having a father who cared
and a mother who knew how to capture the essence of never
through the lens of a camera.

Mornings with Men - Therese Lloyd

In the morning of the sun
with the skittering birds 
and their devilish looks of launch-pad 
I am on fire with ten words
driving me into a poem

The blossom that showed too early 
her vain career over in one crisp afternoon 
has escaped the fate of the rest of us 
How, when a world so tranquil it’s forgotten its brand 
can this white blossom be our leader?

I was too old to break free and run 
as Jeff Buckley said 
before his levis killed him 
You want me to speak of something 
other than death? Well, let’s see, 
“there once was a young man from Glenn Enis...”

Oh Ingeborg! - Therese Lloyd

I am just like you this morning
pock marked and twitchy
with a spilt cup of coffee
as my signature.
I discover that my possessions were unfaithful
and close the blinds on the world –
not even sleep makes sense
when your bed doesn’t belong to you.
In such company as these stars
in this constellation
you would think I could be grateful
humble, or even kind.
But instead I use images to separate us
to sew drop curtains between the real and the fake.
I celebrate that strain of infidelity
that runs through us all
bright golden threads thick as elastic for some
or self-formed lint balls tucked in hemlines
invisible, for the most part
for others.

Contributor's Note

Therese Lloyd is the author of two full-length poetry collections, Other Animals (VUP, 2013) and The Facts (VUP, 2018). In 2017 she completed at doctorate at Victoria University focusing on ekphrasis: poetry about or inspired by visual art. This year she has had the pleasure of being the University of Waikato Writer in Residence. 

 

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