Thursday, 27 December 2018

A poem by Susan Castillo Street

Old Rocker 


He sits in front of a blue piano,
ancient rhino in the cross hairs,
blinking in the spotlights.

He leans forward, touches keys,
eases into surfin’ safaris,
dreams of golden California girls.

Melancholy swirls around him
rising like blue smoke.
God he’s ancient I think. Time to go to bed.

I turn off the telly, head upstairs,
glance in the mirror,
grimace when I see

a strange old woman
glaring back at me.












Susan Castillo Street has published three collections of poems, The Candlewoman's Trade(2003), Abiding Chemistry, (2015), The Gun-Runner’s Daughter (2018) and a pamphlet, Constellations(2016). Her poetry has appeared in Southern Quarterly,Prole, The High Window, Ink Sweat & Tears, Messages in a Bottle, The Missing Slate, Clear Poetry, Prole,Three Drops from a Cauldron, Foliate Oak, The Lake, Algebra of Owls,The Yellow Chair Review, Poetry Shed,and other journals and anthologies. Her poem ‘Bird of God’ recently won first prize in the 2018 Pre-Raphaelite Society Poetry Competition.

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