Retreat

By STEVIE RONNIE

Here are the ducks beaking for a mate,

ink leaks from a pen, a robin settles

in the birch’s oxter, the loch’s there

long and letting something to sea.

 

Here is a roof made of turf, a ring

of pines around the mountain’s base.

Here is a nuclear submarine painted black

being escorted into the estuary.

 

Here I am in the estuary writing something,

here I am writing something, in the estuary of

writing something. Here I am by this sea

loch clocking in with the undertow.

 

 

Stevie Ronnie is an award-winning writer, artist and creative researcher based in the UK.

Photo from Flickr Creative Commons

Retreat

Related Posts

Kentucky farmland

64-West & KY State Fair

D.S. WALDMAN
And how, / if we keep going, pushing ourselves farther / from ourselves, we’d see, eventually, the blankness / we were one day born into. / I forget what you / told me after—I think it had something to do / with loneliness.     

Zebra finches on a branch

Anticipating, Zebra Finches

JOHN KINSELLA
Just below, a roo doe digs into the softest / soil it can find — avoiding rocks — to make / a hollow for itself and the joey heavy in its pouch; / it lifts, digs, turns drops lifts digs turns drops.

How Living Looks

ARIEL CHU 
The three of us—Frances, Jay, and I—live in this rain-slick city, concrete buildings stained with runoff. At night, the streets stretch like black pools, glossy with reflected traffic lights. We stumble around half-closed night markets with our snapped umbrellas and damp socks.