3 Poems: Photo, Junk Mail, and Refresh


We are a part of the landscape,
but do not own it.
In me are fillable spaces,
small secret worlds,
a wish to lay claim.
The camera above my head
like a tiny sun,
snapping my chin
by the old wharf,
the sea’s passionate surface.
On holiday our bodies
slow down, we drift
from stately opera house
to wood and brick castle,
cast ourselves
in their grand watery shadow.
A button, a flash, a means
to bind ourselves
to a new land –
maybe, maybe not.
Still we seek a new home.
In the crunch of new snow
we pose beside the art gallery,
snap and pause,
decide if we belong,
walk crookedly on.
Junk Mail

Where do I know you from?
Spirits led me to you.
Your relative of the same name has died.
You are the beneficiary of a heavenly sum.
Give me the number of your safe foreign account.
I know I can trust you,
an outsider like me.
I will come to your country,
cross oceans of pink squid
and the dreaming whale.
We will divide fairly: forty-sixty.
And find ways to flourish the money.
I wait urgently for your reply!
Your blessed loving friend,
your blessed loving friend,
I also spelled your name wrong twice.

Each furious click
in the slow spell of night
means there’s a missing
part to my life, beyond
these tiny words lost
in frozen white.

Theresa Muñoz is a Canadian poet and critic now settled in Edinburgh. Her poetry has been shortlisted for the Melita Hume Prize and has appeared in Best Scottish Poems, Poetry Review and Canadian Literature. She wrote her PhD on the work of poet Tom Leonard and works as a critic for the Herald and Scottish Review of Books.

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