Wednesday, 28 November 2012

In the Poem is a Clue

It has been explained
how each act of deleting
a map of a map. Comically
hiccups and races through a street.

The lovers solemnly each
incredible contour, countenance,
touch explore. Wings of cloud beating
over location mapped on their travels to

intractable. A text an anti-text. A tender tract / tracks.

Calm and agitation. Paradox.
With crazy shadows
and slowed down memory of street sounds.

I hold your hand so tight I’ll never let go.
I hold your hand so tight I let go.
At infants' school I hit a boy on the nose and blood
flowers and you apologise to his mum. “It’s not like him.”

I hold grandmother’s hand so tight we’ll never
be apart, ever. Standing on the bridge
waving to the train going past.
Driver waves back. You can see his smile from here and I've let go.

The fifth creature decides to make a Paradise in my heart
and invites all its friends in to gaze at wonders.
Now I can begin to decipher
the houses opposite and an ink wash sky.

The fifth creature and its friends catch the early bus into town.
My grandmother guides her pull along shopping trolley among
the legs of irritated ghosts.
Staring so hard at silence the mouth begins to O. 

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