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12.10: The Liturgy
#10 Liturgy for the Memory That Lingers(for the tricks the past plays on the heart) I. The Scent That Refuses to LeaveYou open a closet door,and though the clothes are gone,given away to someone else’s life,the scent of the one who wore themstill hangs in the air like a held breath. Strawberries and cold cream.Tobacco…
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The Old Woman’s Weather
655 Watts the old womanwakes with the sun. 07.16.the roof sleepsanother hour. the old womanmakes breakfastfor the old man but the batterymakes coffee. 08.30.off grid again. 13.00.the solar appgoes roundand roundand round. nothing. the old womanstops knowingwhat the roof is doing. the roofdoes not care.it decides it does not requiresupervision. it puts milesinto her car…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat and The Ants(Or: A Game of Tag with the Very Small) The cat is sprawled on the warm stone patio,one paw extended,ears forward,watching tiny black specksscurry across the surfacelike a secret on legs. “They run,” he whispers to the Old Woman,“and then they hide.And then they come back.And then they run again.It’s like…
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10.10: Stream of Consciousness
A Stream of Consciousness about Familiar I’m sitting on a cold bench beneath an umbrella and a tree half-stripped by the autumn wind off Pevensey Bay, while the world runs silver at the edges — it’s like listening to a familiar voice; I was born where it rains, though people born to it rarely bother…
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The Old Woman’s Weather
1.310 kWh woke to rain.the roof is under the weather. lunch: the bread’s mouldyso opened a tin. the roof made soup. bread goes in the caddywith the fish bonesand the orange peel. compost. a squirrel is digging a holein the lawn.hiding somethingit will never find again. 3pm: the roof washed the dishesand dried them, too.…
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The Old Woman’s Weather
858 Watts something about a CT clampso this bitcan talk to that bit of electricity. eh? the old woman asksfor an explanation while the roofruns the refrigerator. storage battery99% full. the toiletwon’t stop running. the old woman looksat the roof. roof says, not my problem. — from The Old Woman’s Weather All rights reserved. These…
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08.10: Memory of a Spare Key
The Memory of a Spare Key I am eight, which is very grown up, old enough for my own front-door key. Happy birthday, Mum says, dropping itinto my palm. Keys are power. I know this from the way they danceheavy on chains, keeping time against my father’s belt, from the way grown-ups wear them like…
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Ten Things of Thankful
I. The Pike Thankful to meet a child content with the simple pleasure of fishing. He told me there was a great pike in that water and that one day he would catch it … and then let it go at once. Some dreams are not about keeping what you find. II. Better Late Thankful…
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07.10: A Response Poem
This poem is in response to a Six Sentence Story, Untimely Utterances Part X, written by Nick/Spira. The line of response is: Life & death are the same breath drawn twice. Recurrence a star draws breathin fire,in ash, exhaleswhat fire takes in, again. a first page openswhere the last one closed, dawn lifts the light,evening…
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07.10: A Six – SSC&B Alcove
The Heist: episode 2 “Here, let me.” Aurelia, the nervous poet, unfolds the oldest of the building plan, its paper brittle weak at the creases, enlarged until the lines blur into something between architecture and confession, then taps one narrow rectangle behind the rear rooms.
