Written for a Grasshopper

Kris Spencer

A thread of cloth hangs loose

from the stall’s awning—

flies spin around it

in delicate circles.

There is a girl crouched

on the quayside,

looking at a grasshopper.

It hops six times—like flat stones

skipping on a pond,

or the way raindrops

make dust pop.

Across the harbor—two brothers,

with a hosepipe, are teasing gulls

feeding on fish-guts in the pallets.

The birds fret and flap,

but stay—they know water

too well to scare.

Crouched, the girl listens

as the grasshopper sings,

its green legs strumming the air.

The eldest boy is suddenly serious;

handing the hose to his brother,

he remembers the money

they were given

to buy two mackerel

for lunch.

They hear the grasshopper,

and smile over

to the girl who lives

on their street.

The grasshopper jumps away—

but it doesn’t matter to the girl.

She hums a melody,

soft as wings—

half-laughing, half-hopeful—

hopping to land

in the quiet space

that the grasshopper has left.

The boys race

along the wharf, back

to their mother.

Their laughter fades,

until it is swallowed

by the space, and she is left

with the rattle and scrape

of the canvas stalls

as the wind comes up.

Standing against

the push of the breeze,

she feels the cold

through her dress:

summer is leaving now,

and the click and whirr

of insects in the grass

will stop. She wishes

the boys had stayed.

KRIS SPENCER is a writer and teacher. His poetry collections, Life Drawing (2022) and Contact Sheets (2024) are published by Kelsay Books. His third poetry collection, Slack Land (Kelsay Books) and debut novel, Every Storm is a Message (Holand Press), will be published in 2026.