One Poem by Grant Watson

The Kite

It makes its depth charge drop,
An iris split from cloud to water,
A soft dilation

Of rushing air and curling, grey
Fringed feather. It is

A fleck of black on the sunless
Surface. A flap of skin
In jagged phosphorus,

A bloom of foam heaped one
Upon the other. A briny flower.

And as it makes its silent leap
You turn and look at me,
The corner of your

Mouth uprooted, your hair in
Soft loops falling. It takes

Just a moment for your eyes
To change their reference
Point of light and see where

Mine are fastened, in some
Other place, further out.

And the kite with its talons hard
And gleaming, crawls up from the
Earth behind –

As if by strings ascending.


Grant Watson is a playwright and screenwriter whose last play Perfect Blue was awarded three international awards. He has written extensively for UK television including Holby City, Family Affairs and Doctors. Grant is also a singer-songwriter whose EP Figure in a Dark Landscape is due for release later this year.

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