Free Walking Tour With My Brother
In Edinburgh, the tour guide told us
the ground is so full of bones
Around the kirkyard, night-sized
‘People drink here,’ the guide said.
I found you crouched at the base
but you were looking at rubbish.
‘Why are Phil Collins cassettes indestructible?’
The Dog At Christmas
Every human home has a vacuum in the cupboard;
At night the streetlights drown the stars.
There are colonies of mites
Another shrinking universe of junk.
Ah, to be the dog at Christmas,
Craig Cliff lives in Wellington and works for the Government. His poetry has been published in Enamel, Brief, Trout, Turbine, Blackmail Press and The Lumière Reader. His debut collection of short stories, A Man Melting, will be published by Vintage (Random House NZ) in July this year. For more information you can visit his blog, This Fluid Thrill (thecraigcliff.blogspot.com).
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