Alexander Booth


Late Summer-like, Stuttered 

Silent water-striders skirted  
Brackish film, and silent 
         thumbed the grain
Amid skins abandoned, splinters

And the hiving of August’s air  
Considering creation’s linkage 
Was it     lymph, semen, blood

Aflow – with salt, water, and earth
     Figure trope of the forge
Oneself at the anvil forging oneself

And the world as it was in the beginning
The taste of sun 
The taste of flint      silted within the mouth



Boughs bare but
For two
        Gray breast
On black: morning
Pale behind the hill


Alexander Booth lives and works in Rome, Italy. Poems and translations have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Dear Sir, halfcircle poetry journalItalian Poetry Review, Konundrum, and Poetry Salzburg Review. He intends to see his first book of poems accepted for publication in the next year and is currently seeking a publisher for his book-length manuscript of translations of the Italian poet, Sandro Penna. He also volunteers at the historic Non-Catholic Cemetery of Rome and keeps a (mostly) literary weblog on Rome in literature and Roman literature, Misera e stupenda città.