THE VERY THING IT WAS REQUIRED TO BE SHOWN
( for J.L )

"I like birds
more than books."

a young Edward
Thomas thinks

scribbling it
in bad Latin

on the fly leaf of
an algebra book.

A chaffinch chuckles.

"Vink...vink...vink!" it urges
in a regional accent.

"Fringilla Coelebs!"
Edward addresses it.

"Sheld-appel...spink..blue cap!"
the bird disowns its names

content with being
itself and itself

only.

It looks as if it has
just stepped out of the 15th century

illuminated maunuscript
The Shelbourne Missal.

"A caterpillar skeletonising a leaf
mmm...breakfast mefinks!"

The year  1895
madly in love with its own

sunlight
never such sunlight

as this
the window holds the scene

as if it were
a living painting.

The bird behind the glass
poetry in just being.

The torture of
an algebra class

"Quod erat demonstrandum."

FASTENED TO THE AIR

Here, your laughter
fastened to the air

with a little twist
of memory.

Time, spell stopped
as it were.

Your laughter
pinned to this

particular place
this

little scrap of sky
and field

that to an unobservant  eye
would mean nothing

...nothing at all.

But see, your laughter
unfurls its flag of self

snapping in the stiff wind
of what's lost is lost.

This simple second
alive for ever.

I pick it as
I would a flower

untouched by either

time or
death.

"NOW...WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?"

the kettle boils
for a nice cuppa
I take it...put it

in the fridge
I stand there
in the open door light

wondering
"Now...what's wrong
with this picture?"

I close the door
the light
goes out.

I call my wife
"Have you seen the kettle?"
surely she would know

we search the kitchen
with a fine tooth comb
nothing

not even
a smidgin
of a kettle

I go to the fridge
to get some
cranberry juice

and there
lo and
behold

stands the kettle
no longer
so hot

I can imagine
the kettle hopping
off its stand

skipping across the floor
before opening the fridge
and closing the door

but why and how
would a kettle
do that?

*

It's where lost objects go to cool off. I wouldn't be surprised that the next time I go to the fridge and find myself there!

MEANWHILE, BACK ON THE PLANET. . .

God was having
a hard day.

He was busy
making me.

"Hell & damnation!"
he spluttered his syllables.

"I just can't get
this guy right!"

Mrs. God came
and had a look.

"Oh he's not perfect but
...he'll do!"

"And..." she smiled to herself
" . ..he's kinda cute!"

God threw me aside
in annoyance

meant to get the "Reject" bin
but overthrew and so

I tumbled in to the
"Fit for Earth" bin.

Goes to show the Big Guy ain't
...perfect.

Meanwhile, back on
the planet

I'm just...ya know...
trying to get by.

CRAZY LONELINESS HIJACKS MEMORY OF A BEAUTIFUL GIRL. . .

Last night
I missed you so much

that I made love
to your nightdress

passionately

now your nightdress
hides from me

slinks under covers
and pillows

avoids my eyes.

I can't take
another night

without you.

Your nightie
can't take another night

with me.

I am holding
your dresses

hostage
threatening them with

kisses...caresses

if they make one
false move.

The rest of your clothes
tremble in the wardrobe

...come back to me.

"MY 1692 OR MY 1773?"

a group of ghosts standing around
the room chatting pretending to be
sheet-covered-furniture at the human step

the human pops his head in
seeing only sheet-covered-furniture
the ghosts hold their breath

the human shivers
his echoing steps down the hall
"I hate it when they do that!" said a young ghost

an old ghost who had
pretended to be a sofa smiled
"Oh, you get used to that!"

"I find the living tend to
drain one's energy somewhat!"
remarked an even older ghost

outside a car
took itself off
the ghosts all visibly relaxed

the chit-chat resumed
"Now, I consider 1692
to be my finest haunting!"

"Oh no no dear!"
remarks the ghost's wife
"Your 1773 was so much your best!"

outside the car
has returned
the ghost hunters pile out

ME MAM’S MIND
(in memory of my mother Ita)

“If you fall
off that wall

& break both
your legs

...don’t come
running to me! ”

Could never understand
my Mam’s mind

& how it
worked.

One moment
she 'had half a mind

to come up there
&' get me off that wall.

Then she 'was in two minds
about' whether to tell me to stop.

“Go ahead...go ahead
& **** yourself

...see if I care! ”

“I’m warning you child
if you fall off that wall

& ****
yourself

I’ll personally
come up there

& **** ya myself
so I will! ”

I used to watch the words
climbing out of her mouth

& fly around the room

looking for a place to land
in my mind.

Never cared
whether she gave out.

I just loved
everything she said

the music of her
& how

she made the words
behave.

I came down
and kissed her

kissed her worry away.

'I'm sorry Mam'
I told her.

And she cried.

*

It was the moment I grew up...seeing her not just as me Mam but as another human being with her own fear and worries...she became a person in her own right. I was so disgusted with myself for causing that fear and after that I tried to look after her as much as I could. seeing the world not just with my eyes but with her eyes. I became in a way her mother. Me mothering my mother.