two poems

by Colette Maxfield

On Cormorant Bay

I’m starting to think I’m part of a medley of artefacts 

That swoop in and out

All beaks and fish bodies 

You think everybody who arrives is going through an existential crisis 

I am not going through an existential crisis

I arrived not going through an existential crisis

Whatever happened to the gallant fellow

On the beach no less

Acorns and hammers

You squat you paw

I dig myself a trench

Kitchen Devil

No one understands these Victorian houses anymore 

She didn’t get that it was a larder

So when she wrenched open the door

And saw row after row

Of green bottles 

She dismissed it in one glance.

That was a very stupid thing to do.

Before long she was running in and out

Like a trapped cat

That hisses

When it speaks.

BIO: Colette Maxfield lives in the U.K. near the point where the Thames river meets the Kennet canal. Currently working in a University/union setting. Published via The Broken Spine, DarkWinter Literary Magazine and Silly Goose Press.