Two Poems by Ashley Fisher

Muse

We didn't meet the day after he
found you, his new muse, who
would be painted for the price
of a cup of tea. You were sure
that this flaneur was your way out,

he even provided a constant supply
of tobacco (though he viewed the
need with disdain). But by May
your novelty had worn off,
his exhibition had been a success

and his artistic mission was
complete. And I would happily
shared a stale roll-up with
you as we sat in the rain
on a town centre bench.




Uckaluk

Sailing from Greenland
you came with your husband,
part documentary,
part penny-gaffe curio.
You were paraded with native
costume and paraphernalia
throughout
the north of England.
Onlookers would pay
a shilling each to witness
the exotic travellers from
the Cumberland Straits.

Before you left,
they cast your heads
in plaster as a memento
for the people of Hull,
and gave gifts for your return.
But you never reached Nyatlick,
being burned up by fever,
leaving only
your bust in a museum's
glass casing, immune
to any virus or
inconvenient sense of self.



Ashley Fisher is a UK based poet and performer. He runs the Fresh Ink
Open Mic nights in Hull and co-edits the poetry magazine Turbulence.
His poetry has been published in magazines and journals on three
continents. His first chapbook, “Dead Crabs”, was published by Fire
Hazard in 2011. His website can be found at www.ashleyfisher.co.uk