3 prose poems

by D A Angelo

“Sometimes we need to burst the balloon”, a visiting seagull reminded the walrus, “and wade into new waters.”

Notes on a Childhood

The black box of my childhood memories is scattered across a field guarded by flares of gorse flowers. Whatever seeps out is bright like sodium. One burns quicker than the rest: a boy with straw coloured hair on a swing pushed by his mother. Happiness swells like a balloon before reality punctures it quickly. Wild animals will devour everything soon. Stay. Stay and watch the ticking clocks of their hearts slow as they realise the hours they’ve chewed are filled with an unhappiness narrating his life, an unhappiness as familiar as bone, the slow hug of moonlight embracing night-time clouds.


Walrus

The walrus was tethered to nostalgia like a balloon. It enjoyed the smells and sights of the market from its youth: jewels of fresh fruit, fish wearing military uniform patterns, exotic spices pungent enough to clear your sinuses, rare meats, street food and oddities like broken pocket watches repurposed into wind-up birds. It clung on the memories as new tides of time came and left. “Sometimes we need to burst the balloon”, a visiting seagull reminded the walrus, “and wade into new waters.” And it was true. 


Fox Cub

A fox cub randomly came across a robot in the forest. The robot was a blank slate. A new canvas to be filled in. The fox cub showed it everything the forest had. Still, it wanted more, asking questions of every flora and fauna. Finally, it stopped and asked “what is beauty?”, as if something had been triggered deep inside. The fox cub thought about the question and pointed to a column of ants on a tree bark. “Whatever you see. No matter if it’s the smallest size or the biggest”. 

© D A Angelo


D A Angelo (they/them) is a UK-based poet with work in Literary Yard, Rabid Oak, Bluehouse Journal, Petrichor Mag, Wild Greens, Impspired, Flights and several other journals.


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