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The Web Poetry Corner

Julie Leibrich


Raumati, NZ

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High Tide


Julie Leibrich

There is a croft. A man.
A time between the sky
and the horizon.
A place of no names.

On the croft there is a house
circled by turnips and cast-eyed sheep
sharpening their teeth on rowan trees.
There is a beach here too, though
to see it now, you have to bend your eyes
around the church where Knox once stood
and look beyond that history.

You will observe
the white sands of Sanna.
A shore-line, where they placed
their treasure above the high tide mark
when they could carry it no more.

Here is the house I did not live in.
Here is the church in which I did not sing.
Here is the man I did not marry.

In The Mathematicianís House


Julie Leibrich

In the mathematicianís house
there are formulas for everything.
For pressing silver, warmth
for light, for magic.

I pick my way across the pi-squared
charts while he brews a cup of tea
and see his double-dutch-all-greek-to-me
scribbles everywhere.

He emerges from the kitchen.
Innocence carrying a teapot
lovingly filled to the brim, and scones
precisely cut in hexagons.