jessica-fowler - Hello Poetry

Me and dad used to watch bats; lie on the grass in the gap between the house and hedge. Shards of glass against the barely black half-light of July. Flying in drops and dives twisted kites tossed on stormy skies. Sat on the deck we’d hear, under the gable the static click of sonar, like ships; taut sails, riddled with mites and ticks.

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Mar 12, 2013

Mar 12, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC

Bats

Me and dad used to watch bats; lie on the grass in the gap between the house and hedge. Shards of glass against the barely black half-light of July. Flying in drops and dives twisted kites tossed on stormy skies. Sat on the deck we’d hear, under the gable the static click of sonar, like ships; taut sails, riddled with mites and ticks.

15

Pull the cord. Click click. Plunge into night. Next-door’s light is oil on a puddle through the dappled window - bubbles on brown tiles. Folded towels on toilet lid, clothes crumpled on lino. Skin pricked in frozen air. Knotted hair falls, shoulders lower into the tank, steam rising from cold tin. A baptism - of sorts. Astreamofbreath. Open mouth, choked, soaked in this womb, this tiny ocean. Lungs searing, eyes stinging, light specks dart. Water’s skin unbroken.

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Mar 12, 2013

Mar 12, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC

Bath

Pull the cord. Click click. Plunge into night. Next-door’s light is oil on a puddle through the dappled window - bubbles on brown tiles. Folded towels on toilet lid, clothes crumpled on lino. Skin pricked in frozen air. Knotted hair falls, shoulders lower into the tank, steam rising from cold tin. A baptism - of sorts. Astreamofbreath. Open mouth, choked, soaked in this womb, this tiny ocean. Lungs searing, eyes stinging, light specks dart. Water’s skin unbroken.

21

Brick-dust tumbles with last reach for light, choked leaves gasping for air. Cigarette ends and spiders come and go like traffic on the road. Violet against terracotta, a Maasai on an African plain - burning thirst. Rain drips along upright canals of grout slurped by parched roots. Crinkled buds like babies’ hands, drenched, unfold.

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Mar 12, 2013

Mar 12, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC

Wall Flower

Brick-dust tumbles with last reach for light, choked leaves gasping for air. Cigarette ends and spiders come and go like traffic on the road. Violet against terracotta, a Maasai on an African plain - burning thirst. Rain drips along upright canals of grout slurped by parched roots. Crinkled buds like babies’ hands, drenched, unfold.

15

Brick dust tumbles with last reach for light, choked leaves gasping for air. Cigarette ends and spiders come and go like traffic on the road. Rain drips along upright canals of grout slurped by parched roots. Crinkled buds like baby’s hands, drenched, unfold.

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Jan 5, 2013

Jan 5, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC

Wall Flower

Brick dust tumbles with last reach for light, choked leaves gasping for air. Cigarette ends and spiders come and go like traffic on the road. Rain drips along upright canals of grout slurped by parched roots. Crinkled buds like baby’s hands, drenched, unfold.

12

Me and Dad used to watch bats lying on the grass in the gap between the house and hedge. Shards of glass against the barely black half light of July night. Flying in drops and dives like twisted kites tossed in stormy skies. Or sat on the deck we’d hear, under the gable the static click of sonar, like ships; taut sails, riddled with mites and ticks.

0

Jan 5, 2013

Jan 5, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC

Bats

Me and Dad used to watch bats lying on the grass in the gap between the house and hedge. Shards of glass against the barely black half light of July night. Flying in drops and dives like twisted kites tossed in stormy skies. Or sat on the deck we’d hear, under the gable the static click of sonar, like ships; taut sails, riddled with mites and ticks.

15

There is a leaf stuck in an eddy and stagnant water draws close to its edge and folds. It is torn. Its spine and vanes stick through brown tissue skin. Water rushes past; drums and drain pipes. But the leaf and its pool are still. Mist and foam of rapids and the rumble of earth are far away. Saturated in silence the leaf dips below the surface and drowns.

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Sep 14, 2012

Sep 14, 2012 at 11:47 AM UTC

Still Waters

There is a leaf stuck in an eddy and stagnant water draws close to its edge and folds. It is torn. Its spine and vanes stick through brown tissue skin. Water rushes past; drums and drain pipes. But the leaf and its pool are still. Mist and foam of rapids and the rumble of earth are far away. Saturated in silence the leaf dips below the surface and drowns.

15

Skin stings in the cold, pupils contract, air freezes lungs. Shrouded in this dull ache, blood like lead, I’m heavy. Like a sigh life swept out of me, I am a shell now. Harsh brightness. Coming to. Deep breath. Get up.

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Sep 10, 2012

Sep 10, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC

Get Up

Skin stings in the cold, pupils contract, air freezes lungs. Shrouded in this dull ache, blood like lead, I’m heavy. Like a sigh life swept out of me, I am a shell now. Harsh brightness. Coming to. Deep breath. Get up.

13

The whir of the washing machine, half eaten lunch setting on paper plates. Spoons under sofas the cat stalks it’s pray of last night’s tea. The grey summer sky “sunshine and showers” tee shirts, shorts and waterproofs. The sunhat and umbrella medly. Mouldy orange juice from when I was last here, stagnant. a dripping tap a ticking clock. Burnt shoulders. Gooseflesh legs. Too hot. Too cold. Everybody’s gone away theres no one out to play, no one can come to stay I’ll just sit in all day.

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Sep 10, 2012

Sep 10, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC

Staying In

The whir of the washing machine, half eaten lunch setting on paper plates. Spoons under sofas the cat stalks it’s pray of last night’s tea. The grey summer sky “sunshine and showers” tee shirts, shorts and waterproofs. The sunhat and umbrella medly. Mouldy orange juice from when I was last here, stagnant. a dripping tap a ticking clock. Burnt shoulders. Gooseflesh legs. Too hot. Too cold. Everybody’s gone away theres no one out to play, no one can come to stay I’ll just sit in all day.

20

Static radio click and a skitting bird, stench of cigarettes and stale beer salt and vinegar or dry roasted? The dormant dampness of barely-used picnic tables. Flat coke hanging to melted ice, warmth trapped under cloud. Phone under thumb - get together. Bike chains and combination locks, empty wallets, Rizzlers, filters, a key to the house. Sticky coaster and slimy taps beads of sweat on the frozen glass.

0

Sep 10, 2012

Sep 10, 2012 at 6:28 PM UTC

Pub

Static radio click and a skitting bird, stench of cigarettes and stale beer salt and vinegar or dry roasted? The dormant dampness of barely-used picnic tables. Flat coke hanging to melted ice, warmth trapped under cloud. Phone under thumb - get together. Bike chains and combination locks, empty wallets, Rizzlers, filters, a key to the house. Sticky coaster and slimy taps beads of sweat on the frozen glass.

14

Dull grey light of night time rolling under clouds. A mist or cling-film over eyes, the sky still blue overhead. Wind blows itself out takes the flame of the sun. Cold and damp under foot, wetness in the air. A steady snail sweeps his silent path as birds go to sleep. The not-quite-darkness creeps through the slats in the blind.

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Sep 10, 2012

Sep 10, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC

Balmy Night

Dull grey light of night time rolling under clouds. A mist or cling-film over eyes, the sky still blue overhead. Wind blows itself out takes the flame of the sun. Cold and damp under foot, wetness in the air. A steady snail sweeps his silent path as birds go to sleep. The not-quite-darkness creeps through the slats in the blind.

13