Andrew Hunter

One and other

This is not a photograph. That
is not you sitting with your legs
folded up under your long grey skirt
pulled far down over your knees and your arm
straight down to the ground taking all
of your weight. Those are not
my ears or my eyes.  That man is
not standing behind you in a bowler hat
black double-breasted pin-striped suit
smiling with his narrowed eyes
looking down at your head
or the large black hairy dog that is not
there either.
I cannot tell which.

This is not the flower garden of La Maison
Des Eglises; it is not
1924. Neither
is it the middle of a French
& German Degree from your home-
town University. One might think it the evidence
of how light once fell in certain patterns
across un-certain objects moving
in random relation to one and other or even
how that light slipped through
the smallest of briefly
exposed gaps
in a little black box. But it’s not.
It was a piece of curled paper –
one of a number the same –
tucked inside a small cardboard wallet in a drawer
in a mahogany sideboard
in an empty

Copyright © Andrew Hunter 2015

I live and work in Glasgow and have been writing all my life.  I continue to learn from everyone I hear and read and I hope their good influence comes out in what I produce.


About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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2 Responses to Andrew Hunter

  1. I don’t think I can adequately comment because your poem has struck me dumb. I love it.

    • Andy Hunter says:

      Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. This is a great site, with great poems, that gives everyone an ideal opportunity to read contemporary work.

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