Paula Jennings
Paula’s poetry, supported by SAC Writers Bursaries and Hawthornden Fellowships, appears in literary magazines, national newspapers and anthologies. Readings include StAnza International Poetry Festival. She works creatively with people who have dementia and lives in Cellardyke, Fife. Publications include Singing Lucifer, Onlywomen Press (2002/2007) and From the Body of the Green Girl, HappenStance Press (2008)
You say you are like life
but you are always one step ahead,
your tight track ribboning behind you.
Life masterminds nothing;
life says, Here it is, and the here that is
makes love on silk or shrieks under torture.
Here it is says life in the same soft voice.
You say you are like death
but your instrument is not the scythe.
Your turnstile gives with a click
and the petals of the iron daisy
ratchet us through the one-way gate.
From The Body of the Green Girl HappenStance Press 2008
On the Strathkinness low road I remember
a voice from last night’s dream -
let go of the reins and let your animal carry you -
then form follows thought into my headlights:
a flow of fur from road to verge,
tawny brushstroke sliding into damp grass.
I brake,
unbuckle myself into my animal.
Now we are travelling through stiff stars
of cow parsley. High up, black leaves
arrange themselves against the moon.
A beetle drums its gleam across our path
and in this night’s cacophony
of smells, our seed-beaded pelt
yelps out its acrid scent.
We are a long time gone, long enough
to hear the wing-beats of sycamore keys,
the small explosions as each splitting seed
begins its long dive into leaf-mould.
My animal carries me faithfully
through a rip of brambles
back to the verge.
Now every weed in the ditch is breathing,
even the tarmac is alive,
even the ticking flanks of my car.
From The Body of the Green Girl, HappenStance Press, 2008
