It's Still Life

It’s been a Happy Day … For breakfastI had toast and marmalade,eggs and tea. Hummed a bar or twoof an old song that ran wildthrough my head. Wrapped a woollen shawlaround my shoulders,catching cold now is a worry I miss writing lettersto parents – they’ve beengone many years now. Winter darkness is here;it’s the last…

Frustration … … is a poem that makes no sense. It’s early morning,and I’m in the middle of a dark memory,or it might be a nightmare. A pull in a direction,a light’s refraction in a room of clear airand bright surfaces. Medical measure.Walls pink as a mouth, and I hear crunchingleaves. Old parchment. I am…

Celebration … this poemwill only mention celebrationin passing, the way smokefrom a bonfire is no hurryto be gone, or howstanding next to a sexy womanmakes you feel invisible,or like undergradswho ride bicycles when I use my senior’s bus pass, or more specifically,being loved by someone wholooks beyondyour being as oldas a stone. and that’s all…

A 1950s View from the Floor When I Was 4 … My mother had a funny wayof blending into the avocado green painted walls of the kitchen. The only time she was truly noticeablewas when she stood in the corner,which was yellow, or when she was pricking dead stuff offher Christmas cactus,which by the way…

The Fire of … War.Of white stone gardens,Of rubble smooth as shoulders,And wreckage darkened boulders. Of dust with no human footprint,As if some mythical beastRaked the sky of dawn and Descended on jagged edgesOf glass. Steel. And bits of clothHanging like flags of ignored Surrender. And we clench fireIn our hands, fearing to let goAs…