Poetry – Mathew Channer

A Death in the Rain

When I die, let it rain. I have always wanted to die when rain is all can be heard. When water pours like glass beads from heavenly hands, and stands among terraced trees, and spills down grassy lanes, and gathers like birds on a windowsill, tap-tapping the panes. When I die, let it rain. SometimesContinue reading “A Death in the Rain”

Run On

Bells are ringing if only in my mind, Eyes closed, are you sleeping? Designed and refined, now all left behind, Life defined by leaving. Wind is blowing along the hollow lane, No more happy panting. A gentle touch beneath the fur; no pain To quiet your prancing. Water is filling the holes in the lawn,Continue reading “Run On”

Grandfather

He does not sit. He lies; drifting, sometimes, into the room as if coming through the window, eyes wandering like young men wander the bodies of lovers. I do not know if he knows what he sees. I do not know if he knows I am here. I do not know if he mourns. HeContinue reading “Grandfather”

Small Town

You live in a city but spend your life telling people you come from a small town by the sea. The church there had no steeple; no iron cross rusting in the salty air. You were happy there. You live in a city; you flew there in chains. You grew too much. We all grewContinue reading “Small Town”