Friday poem: 'Wish You Were'

21 April 2017

By Colette Bryce

Here, an aftertaste of traffic taints 
the city’s breath, as mornings 
yawn and bare this street 
 
like teeth. Here, airplanes leaving 
Heathrow scare this house 
to trembling; these rooms protect
 
their space with outstretched walls, 
and wait. And evenings fall 
like discs in a jukebox, playing 
 
a song called Here, night after night. 
Wish you were. Your postcards 
land in my hall like meteorites. 
 
 
From Selected Poems, which draws together the best of Colette Bryce's highly acclaimed and prize-winning collections.
 
Moving from the melodic to the political, from the humorous to the nostalgic, Bryce's poetry explores home, escape, family and childhood. Her Selected Poems is a perfect compilation of her most impressive work and the perfect introduction to one of poetry's most lyrical voices. 
 
 
 
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