As we pluck, the air fills with a flour
of feather and dust: everyone sneezes.
The floor is pillowed in down and quill;
our footsteps smother in their folds of snow.
The plucking goes on and what you are
beneath your plumage reveals itself:
enormous prickly pears,
feather-pores like craters in your skin.
On the floor your other selves, the white plumed
creatures that we knew as geese, grow light and tall:
each time the door is opened soundless skeins
of ghosts rise up, thread their way
into the blanket of the night.
Gill McEvoy is Poetry Society Stanza rep for West Cheshire, runs the Golden Pear Poetry reading group, also a monthly poetry workshop; teaches Creative Writing; is reasonably well published in small press magazines (Envoi, Orbis, Other Poetry, Poetry Nottingham, Obsessed with Pipework etc.) and online (Stride, Nth Position, Snakeskin, among others). Lives for poetry!
She is sorry, but she doesn't do photographs.
Gill McEvoy was a runner-up in the 2005 Blinking Eye Poetry Competition. The judge, poet W.N. Herbert, commended her "intriguing, eery focus on natural phenomena."
Follow the link for a list of other Poems of the Month.
The Plucking Shed © 2005 Gill McEvoy: used with permission.
Copyright of this poem remains with the poet: please do not download or republish without permission.
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This page last updated 1st December 2005