Poetry Winner Barbara Black

May 11, 2017 by

Poetry Winner Barbara Black



unheard music

you swallowed a songbird
its beak stuck
on the same wrong note
this is no time
for minor melodies




what you don’t reveal
becomes an antique map
brown ink drains
from continents
I always ask for too little


urban jungle

sun sets, sexed flowers open
teenagers screech bat songs
hysterical with their sense of
freedom in the dark


the mauve question

this is your heart
this is a deer I befriended
who comes in the dusk to eat roses
does it see colour or is it
the scent of something tender?

Barbara Black, a Malahat Review fiction finalist whose work has also appeared in Contemporary Verse 2, Freefall, and The New Quarterly, lives in Victoria, BC, where she’s currently busy riding the twisties on her new motorcycle.


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