A Kite by Robert Nisbet

The children from the end house have a kite,

have lugged it up to Gypsy’s Field,

let it dash suddenly across the clouds.

Its ribbons are sky blue and navy

with one flash of scarlet.

The breeze is light but the kite flies,

failing briefly, then jumping, tugging.

Myra sits in her kitchen, watching the kite,

a cold cloth held to a livid bruise,

knuckled in and spread from ear to eyebrow.

While he is at work, she will move quietly.

For today, just watch the kite.

Stephen is swotting for accountancy exams.

They’ve squashed his nonsense

(the music fad) for now

and in his bedroom he reads the text books,

just sometimes letting his hand fall

to the flute’s wood, caressing it,

as the kite on the common falls and rises.

Very late that morning, the sky darkens,

the blue and scarlet ribbons start to whirl

and the kite is flying in a sudden furious wind. 

*First published in Other Poetry (UK), 4.7, November 2012

Robert Nisbet is a Welsh poet who has two chapbooks in Britain, along with hundreds of magazine appearances. In the USA, he is a regular in San Pedro River Review, Jerry Jazz Musician and Panoply.