Category Archives: Memories

Calmer Sutra

The house clicks and creaks as things

warm or cool, just like our

old bones crack and growl like

icebergs calving as we try to

contort our recalcitrant bodies into

The Beast with Two Bad Backs.

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New Old Words

Words millenia old still send

shards through your skin yet

soft words spoken seconds ago

vanish as though never said.

Voyeuse

Perhaps one year old,

parked in her pushchair on a

crowded Tube, her

blue eyes fixing on a

young man above her

oblivious on his mobile, then on

two American women by me, one

sat the other stood, her eyes

flicking from one to the other

intent on working them out, but

catching my smile she

squirmed and squawked, caught,

preferring to see but

not be seen.

Make-Up Remover

The face you wore tonight is now

smeared on my sheets, my

pillow, my face, and your

parloured hair is decidedly

unkempt, your sleepy eyes

between locks accepting this

new openness, this

new nakedness.

Near Midnight

Near midnight I heard geese honking

though there were no ponds nearby.

 

Migration was in the air but

would they set off at night?

 

I scanned the sky for some

occlusion of the Moon and stars but

 

saw nothing, though their cry

called me to find and follow them.

A Mother and a Daughter

As she was going she

went back to those

childhood woods where she

could hide for hours and

be naughty but you

resented your absence from a

world where you

weren’t conceived or

even imagined.

Paper-Cut

The Producer wanted blood and

the writer added a bandage but I

persuaded them that a simple

plaster plucked from rawness

better revealed the inner pain

like a paper-cut

like a poem.

Anaesthesia

We so anaesthetize dying that

family and friends may as well be at a

pre-Funeral, unable to touch and

talk, reminisce and laugh through

what might be pain but may

also be love’s last kiss,

abolishing last words

famous or not.

Ms. Petrolhead

The mechanics sniggered since

she looked so tiny

next to their monster and

she had to pull the

seat up to its

last notch and

crook all the mirrors at

odd angles but

key in the ignition

high-heel to the floor

all they could do was

cough as she

vanished.

Photograph

The best he could say of his face was

that it was “lived-in”, though

who lived there at the moment was

open to question.

 

Does he pay the rent on time?

Keep the house tidy and the

garden well-maintained? And

just what is his credit-rating?

 

And the people in the house?

Do they love him? Or do they

wonder who it is that

looks like his photograph?

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