Orange warms
the early winter horizon,
birds I'll never know flicker
in the thicket just beyond my seat
by the frosted window. The slick disguise
I've committed to
over these months slips
for a moment, my facade sliding
like a tear down a loved one’s cheek.
Submerged vibrations,
Leviathan-ancient, ripple
upward, shake loose the fabric
folds I've wrapped round the tellings.
The echoes shift aside the icy mist
that scours the sun. An orange cat perches
on the upholstered arm of my favourite chair.
Frances Boyle is a Canadian writer, living in Ottawa. Her latest book is Openwork and Limestone (Frontenac House 2022). In addition to two earlier books of poetry she is also the author of a novella, and a short story collection that was a finalist for the Danuta Gleed Award. Recent and forthcoming publications include work in TAB Journal, Acropolis, Pinhole and Dust Poetry. Visit www.francesboyle.com and follow @francesboyle19 on Twitter and Instagram.
More work by Frances Boyle
Tel: 028 7126 6946
Email: hueditor@theverbal.co
Verbal, Stable Lane and Mall Wall, Bishop Street Within, Derry/Londonderry, BT48 6PU
companyCopyright © 2026 Honest Ulsterman