Jon Miller
Jon Alex Miller (he/him/his) lives in London with his husband…
After Psalms 44, 60 and 90
1. (We have heard it with our ears;
our ancestors have told us)
our ancestors have told us)
the three old oaks
at the churchyard
have goneall is silent now
the rowdy mob
of rookshave nowhere
no oaks
no rooks
and we don’t know why2. (you have raised a banner to be
unfurled
against the bow)four men
from the power company come
from the power company come
to take down
an old field maple
interfering withoverhead cables
an old woman
and her dog don’t
like it “this tree
and her dog don’t
like it “this tree
has been here all my life,”
she says
but when
it’s gone
her garden is flooded with sky.
but when
it’s gone
her garden is flooded with sky.
3. (in the sleep of death
they are like the new grass of the morning)
you planted
a lilac
beneathyour grandmother’s
bedroom
windownot purple
not pink
not blue
not pink
not blue
she would curse the wind
that wrecked the blooms
that wrecked the blooms
May comes
each year
and your lilac still blooms
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Jon Miller
Jon Alex Miller (he/him/his) lives in London with his husband and dog, writing to explore the (dis)connections between our queer experience, our bodies and nature. Just 50 and new to writing poetry – he has already been long/short-listed for the Bridport Prize, the Julian Lennon Poetry Prize and the Beaver Trust Ecological Emergency Prize. Feeling energized by re-discovering poetry – he is exhilarated to be at the beginning of something again.