Image by Megan Menegay


the madrigal, volume iii


by d.w. evans

My great grandfather, I was told

by an aunt at least a century old,

wore a tie of glass.

Each bead a memory wrought
of a thousand seafaring voyages,
some he commissioned,
some he carved,
most were blown by island folk
(dwelling on the Edges of the Known)

from lightening glass –
famed for a vacuum within
sucking up malicious green spirits
of the breakers and lagoons that appeared, prior to capture and extinction,
in the form of fret or drizzle,
rarely heavy rain.

My great grandfather, I was told
by an aunt at least a century old,
spoke High Welsh in a Rhondda twang.

He didn’t, she was wrong.
A meandering mistake

completely rooted
in his capacity for Mandarin

which, for this daughter aunt,

was indivisible

from Carmarthen tongue whereof

she’d views on many things,
this was one
the others concerned

angels, guitars, the keeping of pets

(though never a dog)
and the quiet music of souls.

DW Evans was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, and now lives and works in Jersey. He won the Alan Jones Memorial Prize 2019 and in 2020, he was shortlisted in Ó Bhéal’s Five Words (2020 and 2021), and received highly commended in Acumen’s first international competition 2020. His poems have appeared in the Frogmore Papers, Proverse Mingled Voices, Best New British & Irish Poets 2019 -2021 (Black Spring Press), Lucent Dreaming, Bindweed, A3 Review, The Madrigal – volume 2, and later this year The Honest Ulsterman, Epoch and Driech’s Pop anthology.