2 Poems – Sarah Wallis [Poetry]

Rainbows Take the Hat of Evening

Dancing in her nightclub
of dreams, Iris is clouded with rainbows tonight,

throwing out voguing sweat
and shimmer, a slippery fish of mad March matter,

Pisces girl is comfy in the gold lamé skin she’s living in
and happy to whorl away time,

yes, whirl away time, under the ‘bow’s
dizzying, glittered array, she’s been projected in prisms

been oil in the water and lauded in song, all red
and yellow and pink and green… now free and dancing

the brightest glow up spectrum you’ve ever seen,
and this is Iris clouded, wait until she’s broken through…

The Glassblowers

proud to spin yarns in glass, one practitioner
swings a pole overhead like clockwork blur,
spinning his time-hands towards a reveal;

a child’s picture perfect of the world, house
and grass and tree, yellow dot sunshine,
one huff puff cloud, mum and dad and me

as if the glass baubles were cool as clay,
not molten crocus bulbs bursting with plans,
an assemblage of scorch-pebble waits

in the kiln, built once, twice, tight as a womb
where only a volcanic slit shows the fire
of creation, the glassmaker blots out a flaw,

turning and turning the red-hot rock, casual
as dealing with inkblots, the apprentice
takes pliers to the turning poles and a riot

of living rainbow colour screams to
the concrete smash, outcast, they only play
with the true libation of sunset

one deep crack in the mirror-melt parade
set up, a deep royal blue rinsed sky,
to finish, a paperweight, after all this rise.

By Sarah Wallis

  • Sarah Wallis is a poet & playwright based in Scotland. She has an MA in Creative Writing from UEA and an Mphil in Playwriting from Birmingham University. Recent work has appeared in Lunate, Idle Ink, Tiny Seed, Crepe & Penn and Finished Creatures. A monologue, A Stage of One’s Own streamed by Slackline Cyberstories during lockdown, was first performed at Leeds Lit Fest 2019. A chapbook, Medusa Retold, is due from Fly on the Wall Press Dec 2020. 

1 Comment

  1. Bubbles in rainbows don’t last as long as glass saved from shattering and scattering, and raindrops like tears have no shards that cut like the glassblower master to a student before a crash.


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