Matthew Gregory is an MA student at Goldsmiths who will be reading at the next Clinic event (11th February). Being a S/S/Y/K poet and Goldsmiths student meant we were probably going to really enjoy his poetry before we'd ever read any. We then read it and loved it, Here's a taster.
Young Pterodactyl
But we almost didn’t notice it, folded into its wings
on the pathway, under rusty leaves.
Don’t touch, it will perish if we acknowledge it, I said
but instead you wrapped it in your jumper
and held it in your arms.
We carried it home, a parcel of angles and nerves
and if anyone saw us, I couldn’t tell.
The beak was a blunted eggtooth, the rubbery feet
curled inwards the same as a baby’s,
but this was new to us.
That night I could think only of its hopelessness;
its eyes, two huge questions in its head.
I built a crate for it to live in; hammering each nail
with a promise to let it go
when the time came.
The next morning I held it, flapping inside my arms
like a dishtowel, while you offered it bits of steak.
It wouldn’t eat them and its beak
closed on us for a whole day and night
and we were worried.
Eventually it warmed to us, knuckle-walking on its wings.
Was there anything as childish as this
daft little bone-bird, knock-kneed toy
that we were keeping captive
for our own amusement?
We loved it with our eyes closed; simply, too much,
now it has outgrown us and we are left
clutching after its wake.
Tonight, it is enormous as a mood
roosting over our heads.
I found this poem on the Goldsmiths online journal, Goldfish, where you can go and visit and read more stuff.