About Alison Leslie Gold

Posts by Alison Leslie Gold:

Grace notes

they could not have been better moisture in the wheat riots in Belfast and Derry best to refuse she trained herself not to ask figures running in agreement memories of Morris a calm, hovering force a nun at some point too many notes let the piano do the grace notes this solemnity what? dignified on(…)


A new kind of nowhere

from grey-pink heavily nibbled by mice and then, then it’s furry breath over the cloister roof   a slammed door the gate of sorrows that short slope into searing light impossible to know   as moisture is drawn from it   not once finally footprints to the horizon built of mud bricks only when the(…)


Turn back time

the terrible events unparalleled national humiliation looking, and looking away at the same time had he lived   wooden crosses still stood greater and stronger this shortage   Jean Améry the true nature marked out as a victim islands of amnesia bodily being under its wheel it was and is turn back time the extravagant(…)


Poor Sarojini

it wasn’t allowed by the Maharaja another titled visitor the discovery without a knowledge of time whiskey for both of them smart talk a landlord standards of wealth in a sickroom ‘poor Sarojini’ full of the pain he felt for their circumstances Spaniards or part-Spaniards her lover no one among us young nipples sticking up(…)


Are, were

have the stomach for it awake or asleep scaly ancestors private white flesh he’s mistaken drunk on the word of God worse than Welsh as if her hand slackens in his learning Polish start to plait it are, were all the world’s a menial close the gates when to give up bring the eels


Sick dog

he was an s.o.b. a shot at happiness invariably late this time a time before Eddie waited for her   with Alma that sick dog look in his eyes ‘my father said the same thing he always says’ it’s okay after all   never much of a friend


In the Running Footman

they were the first in the cafe a trace of scent made do discomfiture had flecked of necessity at twenty to six in the Running Footman lies of silence Spanish shoes coming in the bedroom window battered briefcase light dust brushed Spanish shoes on the way to York a whiff of Marmite the afternoon that(…)


Cows in the garden

the  ashes of DH Lawrence secret maps in Inverness in 1970s ‘cycling my bike home from the station’ filled with live ants women and stallions ridiculous, glorious connection burning and impatient fury with birdsong left the poem behind it a holy place freely available the pile was going to topple birds hot dinners a woman,(…)