Chris Hardy




Humiliated behind glass
black, point nosed
Beluga Sturgeon,
float on a terrace.

After the seminar
astronomers eat salad,
watch stars flick on.

I too am interested
in the Universe
but cannot see past

the cook picking up a glove
as grills glow red
in expectation.


If we leave now
we’ll reach the sea

gathered above
a deep blue gulf,
where nothing swims

except ourselves
stick limbed
in the light filled surface

looking down,
and wondering
if what we do not know
is there.



Chris Hardy’s poems have been published widely and have won prizes. His fourth collection will be published this year. He is in LiTTLe MACHiNe, performing settings of poetry at literary festivals – best poetry band in the world according to Carol Ann Duffy.

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