Simon Williams

Shapes in Stars

The Greco-Roman set of constellations,
would have you see a lion, a scorpion, a crab
among a retinue of minor gods and beasts,

but you could see a water-cooled reactor,
a map of the coast near Lyme Regis,
an ay ay from the woods of Madagascar.

There is a small, nocturnal bird, who plays
among the cut stalks of a wheat field near Nehawka,
who sees the lattice of a vast nest as she

joins the dots, two-by-two. Go out, tonight,
and lay your own impertinence on the swinging map
of sky. Overlay a saucepan or a butterfly,

a stiletto or a glass of Beaujolais,
pull the crumbs of stars to fit your own ciabatta,
croissant, bannock, bap or bagel.

Simon Williams began writing poetry at Loughborough University, where he worked under the influence of the two resident poets, Roger McGough and Pete Morgan. He has developed a poetic voice which flexes into disparate characters with subtlety, wit and affection. Now living on Dartmoor, he performs regularly and often enhances his readings with acapella songs.