By Tom Pickard b. 1946 Tom Pickard
When my lover became my enemy
I made my bed amongst winds
and drove the old road ’till my heart crashed.
Where’s the bypass?

Washing my shirts, wringing them out.
Hung in the breeze.

Water skips
over outcrops.

What it says is.

roots in rock.

Lying on Long Tongue,
sun diffused in mist.
Easy sleep
without waking.

Edge of
      displaced echoes
air around
and sound
      of  bird and ’plane

A swallow’s glittering chitter.

Source: Poetry (October 2013).


This poem originally appeared in the October 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

October 2013


In impoverished northeastern England, Tom Pickard co-founded and for several years managed Morden Tower, a poetry center situated on a medieval city wall in the industrial sector of Newcastle upon Tyne. As Eric Mottram commented in Primary Sources, there "the finest British and American poets read at a time when they were unheard elsewhere in [England]." Pickard related that in 1984, "Morden Tower celebrated its twentieth year . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Sorrow & Grieving, Love, Break-ups & Vexed Love


Poetic Terms Free Verse

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