I do not love you like the ocean,
I’m much too scared of drowning.
Instead I love you like a battered paperback,
small enough to pocket
on walks from dorm rooms to lecture halls.
I love like the blanket my housemate bought me,
too pink to be polite
but a soft cucoon against my skin
warm on cold winter nights.
I love you like anything that can be forgotten
tucked away or to one side,
but hangs around in the quiet moments
still very much alive.
I do not love you like life itself,
but I love you a little like breath.
In the same way that I do not think about it,
in the same way that to not would be nonsense
in the same way that I don’t know how to stop
without the pressure in my chest building
to a point where I think I might shatter me pieces.
I suppose I love you a little like breathing.
I do not love you like the ocean though.
With you I have never been afraid of drowning.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
It’s almost as if someone forgot to turn the radio off.
Not in this room
but the one across the hall or down the corridor,
a somewhere that can’t be found
no matter how many corners I check.
The distance turns voices to static,
punctured with partial comments
slipping between floorboard
like strings of mist on summer mornings.
Even if I press my ear to the wallpaper
I still can’t link the lines into one another.
The harder I try
the deeper the crackle in the speakers.
If I busy myself,
turn the dishwasher on,
boil the kettle,
fill the house with the rattle and clatter of things needing to be done,
I might just stand a chance.
A hiccup in the warble leaves a sentence
pressed against my ear,
burrowing its way through
to find the next line
in the dark of the grey matter inside.
All the while the radio continues playing
in a room I cannot find.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
I found the pip between my teeth
an hour after the bitter bite
of garden currents
had faded from my tongue.
In the middle of a meeting,
too close between collegues
to spit or pick
the pith from my mouth.
Instead I chased it
from cheek to cheek
along the ring of my lower lip
to the hollow beside my molars.
The presenter lost his place,
tapped again at his laptop,
muttered a word ,
asked someone to call IT.
I swallowed by accident.
Choked,
drew a worried glance,
waved it away with a glass of water.
Outside the cleaner checked bins,
roll of bags at her hip,
quick, quiet between the desks,
she whisked any evidence away.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
No one explained that best before
was subjective at best.
Instead they suggested
that you were lucky to find a man
willing to settle for spoiled produce
so close to the sell by date.
Did it occur to you
the rot might be them?
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Watch for the cracks in the pavement,
Watch for the monsters waiting below.
At midnight they’ll rise from the darkness
and slip through the gaps in the stone.
So watch for the cracks in the pavement
And keep your sword close at hand.
Just because you’re no Prince Charming
Doesn’t mean an escape from this fairy-tale land.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Clouded by cobwebs
these days
you tell the same stories
and ask for news
forgotten by the next clock stroke.
You are no longer the apple peeler
whose hands never faltered
in wielding blade or teacup,
whichever was needed
to cater for me.
Though I bare your name
the syllables slip
and you must grasp
at faces I resemble
in the hope you’ll catch a memory
before it fades for good.
You were seventy-seven at my birth
and yet you stood
in photos with me,
constant in attention and love.
I do not know,
a world without.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
The buzzards have fledged
swapping nests for summer winds
screaming on new wings.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
Your magnificent masterpiece leaned to the left.
Framed and fixed, we never noticed until we stepped away.
You bulged blue, swore saffron and screamed at the help-
As if it were their faulted frame leaning lopsided!
I think I said something, maybe made mock;
My taunting tongue always for an attack on you...
So we both swore saffron, but only you bulged blue.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 9:49 PM UTC
Before we met,
Warm summer days,
Were as eternal,
As the life,
Of a goddess,
It was common
For gaggles of girls,
To tighten ranks,
When he walked
Around the corner.
His jaunty stride,
And brooding glare,
Causing the mothers
Of teenage girls
To warn their daughters
My own mother's words
Fell on deaf ears,
As the growl
Of his bike
Filled my silence.
The words he spoke,
From poets mouths,
Long since dead,
Yet in his voice,
Even more profound.
I'd grown tired
Of my world,
Of endless summer,
And wished for
The taste of winter.
So when he came,
Astride his bike,
I took the helmet,
And sat behind.
Held on tight.
I choose to feel,
Those winter months,
Not kidnapped,
By unrequited,
Obsessive love,
She did not see
My mother dear,
The way I needed
The annual thrill
Of summer death.
So I came back.
To sun my skin,
And kiss her cheek,
Only for a while
Each year.
Before the growl,
And brooding stare
Broke the summer
To bring me home.
And free my soul.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 6:36 AM UTC
You're begging for forgiveness
With scrapped up knees
And I'm standing on my steeple
With nothing to steady me
The hollow of your words
Drowns out the chapel bells
And I'm slipping from the slate
You wouldn't catch me if I fell
If the air is too thin
Then why does it seem
That here I can think
While with you i can't breathe?
Lines between lies blur into truth
Crows in the graveyard
They recognize your tune
Magic in the bard
And fresh meat at your feet
Sew forgiveness into my lips
And have me recite it
Edit out any slips or quips
You're sorry for lying
Apology for the cheating and hurt
But my acceptance is falsehood
As much as your words.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 6:35 AM UTC