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April 2016 --At Night She Cries


Ancient Eagle Press

                                         Unforgettable

  No, my memory is, and always has been, far above average.
  That has been an established fact since my school days,
  Spent happily at that place with the tall trees in front,
  Elms, I believe, or chestnuts perhaps.

  That is quite the reason my classmates elected me to office.
  I’m sure you recall that, my dear; the stirring campaigning,
  Bands in the halls, streamers on the walls,
  And you fawning on my every word.

  You weren’t? Are you sure? Of course you are correct, my dear,
  (We must humor the old girl, mustn’t we?
  For all her beauty, she is a little light on the memory)
  But had you been there, you would have loved my speeches.

  And I was brilliant at the A-levels,
  Never has there been such an analysis of Cicero!
  No, I’m sure it was Cicero. Perhaps it was your brother
  Who deconstructed Addison.

  I recall in detail everything about our first apartment
  In that lovely country over there on the continent,
  With the red-curtained windows overlooking the Pantanal,
  Where we watched the mountain goats graze.

  Every night we dined on cheese and olives, 
  Drank wine, listened to the guitars,
  And made love under the full moon,
  Poor but pure of spirit, as only youth can be.

  And our children! Such beautiful babies.
  Just one? Are you sure? Of course you are correct, my dear,
  But after he grew up, he was handsome, wasn’t he?
  She? Yes, of course. Mothers would know these things.

  But let us hurry along now or we’ll be late,
  I have the address on a piece of paper somewhere,
  Get your coat and that thing you wear on your hair,
  And I’m sure any moment I’ll find my keys.

    by Lee Alloway
    from Hemolymph Moon (2016)

May 2016

Welcome to May. April rains continue into the new month, the birds have begun to feather their nests, and it's time for another Poem of the Month. This time, something entirely different. Enjoy.


Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff.   Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.

Poem of the Month

Where Old Fliers Come to Roost