St Kilda Beach
Far out from the clammy city
the coastal verge remains voluptuous;
scented breezes, hazy skies,
states of undress. A cat sways by
on pendulous legs; creepers straggle
over wooden frames.
A walk-through rosemary clump
and a beach of hot sand; an urge
to explore, but a feeling of torpor.
This shuttered guest house is cool, subdued;
its small mats scattered like after-thoughts
on floors of grey-black marble.
An aspidistra has latticed with roots
an ancient pot. Now and then, a silhouette
of the woman I desire.
More poetry by James Charlton
Reviews of James Charlton's poetry
Anne Kellas, reviewing Luminous Bodies
David Kelly, reviewing So Much Light
(and Stephen Edgar's History of the Day)