Maureen N. McLane

Maureen N. McLane’s most recent book is More Anon: selected poems.

Poem: ‘Season’

Maureen N. McLane, 7 April 2022

Orange zinnias. Lettuces bolted,some salvageable. Babiesand teargas on Facebook.Money’s an algorithm.

Someone’s got rhythm.Did iambic pentametermarch along with British soldiers –maybe. I take my

waking slow, click among linksin the morning in bed –is it a cocoon, is it Procrustean –O my modern self too long lefton the shelf with old booksand expired cans of...

Poem: ‘Weeds’

Maureen N. McLane, 4 November 2021

all daypersonifying plantsEvil NettleFascist Weed

boing boingI do not want youmatter out of placeI rip you outI favour the desiredthe useful to me to me to me!

meanwhile stars doing themselvesin the skyinsouciant celebrityassholes they don’t carewhy don’t they caredon’t theyCassiopeia angling the skyopen triangles mouths and teethof vanity, griefbut where, where is the beltof...

Poem: ‘Trees’

Maureen N. McLane, 20 May 2021

Everywhere/todaythe irises insistedon waving their blue flags

Hairy tongued thingswith mouthshanging open

as if to fuck the air

O la la la spring& dying

the usual song

            ‘Every flower in a garden/is a sign            of a complete failure’            the landscape designer declared


Poem: ‘The Reach of the Sea’

Maureen N. McLane, 2 April 2020

Beach Rose

A beach where dogs should be leashed but aren’t. Low tide strands the seaweed and two dead seals no one can call to help. There’s no one to call for help. A shore of men’s trash, twine, bits of mooring line, the house of what was once alive no I didn’t per se find my beach! but there was Brace Cove, Niles Beach, Good Harbour, Pavilion Beach if you like the...

Poem: ‘Get What You Want’

Maureen N. McLane, 5 December 2019

after Sappho, Fragment 58

You who, like undergraduates, are always younggo in for the lyredo not neglectto put your hands in the air say WAAAAAAand wave the long night endless –As for me the dawn breaksupon my tender body turningstiff, my hair from black to white –I find myself changedin this light, my hips locked,an untwerkable ass.C’est la vie, que será –


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