An Invasion of Grapes Shining box of glass surrounded, waiting for a moment when the gleaming screen might glance away... Fumble in the paper bag and draw out all the dusky globes, detonating purple fragrance: winking in conspiracy, they throw the light of flashing spears, smell of soil baked in the sunshine, vines that link the earth to heaven, sacred blood and muttered legends spiralling around the centre. Now they’re gone and crumpled paper holds a breath of their invasion (while the screen stares square and glassy - all suspicion. Not suspecting.)
Katherine Spadaro was born in Scotland but has spent most of her life in Australia. She is married with two adult children. Her poems are typically short and focus on some everyday event or feeling; sometimes they have narrowly survived having all the life edited out of them. She is interested in the symbolism and impact of regular experience and how it is connected with spiritual truth.
Amethyst Review 