Every month a previously unpublished poem by Steve Day is posted on this page. 


Poem Of The Month






Contact: earssteveday@gmail.com 




The Apocryphal Night




                  The four of us tapping ourselves

                   into the apocryphal night

                  wrapped in blankets stitched with simile

                  and the abiding hand of darkness.



                  Phil in Abergavenny, land of the Pharaohs.

                  His binocular eyes tracing bird song

                  in the bush, stringing the singing into

                  lines he has memorised for the morning.



                  Darting Julie, balancing the clock,

                  calling on Aretha to pass her the

                  pen and paper she had carefully put

                  on the table, a reminder of rhythm.



                  And in East Bristol, Anthony James 

                  translates typeface into mouth music 

                  sung in ambient observation inherited 

                  by pausing beats beneath the space bar.



                  And so he does, of course we do.

                  I write out a prescription in my own

                  withered hand; suckering meaning

                  from a dead griot who always loved us.