Spies by Linda Stevenson


You left me these…
suggestions, a generic
trait, hints about the London
Underground, questionable lines
back to back and winding, last century,
a formal photograph highlighting royalty.
Yet nothing of the other kind, no domesticity,
habitual sex or mutual content, no offspring,
rearing, bearing it all on through to final.
Well, different ways of loving, different
runes and circumstance; all fine, they
weave a marvel, obliquely leaving
improbable evidence of touch,
intangible mementos.

Linda Stevenson is a poet/painter living in Melbourne Australia. Linda considers her poetry as part of her life; it has been a life-long habit, from childhood through to adolescence, adulthood and now into mature older age. In recent years her poems have been published in literature magazines in Australia, UK, USA and Canada. A chapbook “The Tipping Point” was also published in 2015.

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