"underclothes" poems
gee i like to think of dead it means nearer because deeper firmer
since darker than little round water at one end of the well it’s
too cool to be crooked and it’s too firm to be hard but it’s sharp
and thick and it loves, every old thing falls in rosebugs and
jackknives and kittens and pennies they all sit there looking at
each other having the fastest time because they’ve never met before
dead’s more even than how many ways of sitting on your head your
unnatural hair has in the morning
dead’s clever too like POF goes the alarm off and the little striker
having the best time tickling away everybody’s brain so everybody
just puts out their finger and they stuff the poor thing all full
of fingers
dead has a smile like the nicest man you’ve never met who maybe winks
at you in a streetcar and you pretend you don’t but really you do
see and you are My how glad he winked and hope he’ll do it again
or if it talks about you somewhere behind your back it makes your neck
feel pleasant and stoopid and if dead says may i have this one and
was never introduced you say Yes because you know you want it to dance
with you and it wants to and it can dance and Whocares
dead’s fine like hands do you see that water flowerpots in windows but
they live higher in their house than you so that’s all you see but you
don’t want to
dead’s happy like the way underclothes All so differently solemn and
inti and sitting on one string
dead never says my dear,Time for your musiclesson and you like music and
to have somebody play who can but you know you never can and why have to?
dead’s nice like a dance where you danced simple hours and you take all
your prickly-clothes off and squeeze-into-largeness without one word and
you lie still as anything in largeness and this largeness begins to give
you,the dance all over again and you,feel all again all over the way men
you liked made you feel when they touched you(but that’s not all)because
largeness tells you so you can feel what you made,men feel when,you touched,
them
dead’s sorry like a thistlefluff-thing which goes landing away all by
himself on somebody’s roof or something where who-ever-heard-of-growing
and nobody expects you to anyway
dead says come with me he says(andwhyevernot)into the round well and
see the kitten and the penny and the jackknife and the rosebug
and you
say Sure you say (like that) sure i’ll come with you you say for i
like kittens i do and jackknives i do and pennies i do and rosebugs i do
9.1k
Tip Your hat
And curtsy low
The masses so mandate absolute guile
A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow!
To adorn thy head and semble wit
And do your best!
Take pride with etiquette
If not informed
Ye won't last a mile
And differentiation between animals distinguishes you,
Resplendent child
Wash your hair and underclothes with soap
Lest ye resemble sow
And goodness dear
Have I forgotten now?
Always remember to smile!
So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest
I'll scramble on point
No unruly mess
Oh, did i forget your coat?
No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke?
My apologies, please forgive my latency
It must be warm in here for my blood
In fact...
Boiling over kettle within
Prevent me from committing sin
I do wish to vent
Pick up this pen
And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck
Or...
The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick
Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter?
I'll act for free, so cordially!
With my chivalrous lines
But can you, my friend, respond in kind?
After all, it's only common courtesy
It's over now, my fantasy
It dissipates with urgency
And this is my confession
Yes
Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson
An implication of uniformity
The daydreams borne from the perfunctory
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Is it sad that I feel the most beautiful when I'm standing in front of my mirror half naked? When I feel the most ****
I've never had the room to cry about a bad weight complex.
I've always been beautifully thin and no angle not pleasing to look at...or so I've been told....
Told by the same male who broke down my walls and worked his hardest to get in...
only to see the beautiful body under this princess' gown.
The male who broke my walls and when left broke my heart leaving this beautiful body
empty.
I look in the mirror in my new lingerie feeling beautiful...feeling fake, because every time I see myself like this reminds me of how I looked just like this. Just as pretty, just as **** in my underclothes as I did then. And it feels so wrong and so right that I stopped looking.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
You sit next to Randal
By the river. He brings
Out the postcards he’d
Bought. Best send one
To your mother, he says,
Don’t want her worrying
About you and how you’re
Doing. You take the offered
Postcard and put in on your
Knees. Amsterdam. Randal’s
Been here before, he knows
The place well. Came last
Year with the French girl.
You wonder why he dropped
Her soon after their return.
Maybe she wouldn’t let him
Or maybe she did too often
And that put him off. You
Look at the picture on the
Front of Amsterdam at dawn.
Ann Frank’s Haus yesterday.
You remember that. Haunted
You; you felt some aspects
Of her were still there. What
To write to Mother? Why bother?
Part of you thinks, she’ll look
Between the lines, see things
That aren’t there, imagine things,
Suggest you did this and that.
She never trusts. Randal writes
His scribble fast, usual crap:
Weather, food, whatever. He’ll
Not write to say he shafted you
Twice the other night between
Hot sheets. His parents don’t
Know him; think him so sweet
And clever. Shaft girls, smoke
**** Never. You take a biro
From your bag and neatly write.
Dear Mother, we are well and
Enjoying the sights (guess what
We do at nights? Leave that out)
And the weather’s fine and food
Is plentiful and yes, I do change
My underclothes each day and yes,
We have separate beds in the hotel.
(Lies are cheap) you pause. Randal
Has done, he licks a stamp, presses
It onto the back. Finished? He asks,
Placing his hand on your knee, giving
A squeeze, sending a buzz between
Your knees. You smile, nod, and
Hand him the card. He reads and
Shakes his head and grins. All lies,
He says, and all those hidden sins.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Yehudit stood
by the window
of the bedroom
looking out
at the garden below
Baruch lay
on the bed
taking in
her figure
standing there
after having
made love
in his bed
I like your apple orchard
she said
the blossom
makes it
so beautiful
not as beautiful
as you
he said
taking in
her nakedness
the sunlight touching
her profile
she smiled
the blossom
is more beautiful
than I am
she said
come back to bed
he said
she turned
and walked back
to the bed
and lay beside him
I’ll have to go soon
she said
your mother
will be returning
from her work soon
he watched her eyes
the flush
about her skin
I know
he said
guess we best
get dressed
and I’ll walk you
back home
she kissed him
and he caressed her
and she ran a hand
along his thigh
shame we have to go
she said
he kissed her
and said
can't risk being here
when Mother returns
or she'll put
2 +2 and come up
with 5
Yehudit sighed
and moved off
the bed
and began to dress
into her underclothes
and orange flower
patterned dress
he got up
and began to get dressed
looking at her nakedness
disappear into clothes
the memory
of their love making
fresh in his mind
her apple scent
her body supple
her peasant look
her simplicity
the kissing
the holding
the bodies interacting
ready?
he asked
she nodded
and they went down
the stairs
and out the back door
and along the path
by the apple orchard
and out the back gate
into the woods
there was birdsong
and a warm air
and smell of the farm
beyond the woods
back to work tomorrow
she said
my half day
spent making love
they kissed
and he walked her
through the woods
to her house
along the small road
at the edge of the field
by the farmed land
he holding her
peasant
warm hand.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Lizbeth stood in front
of the tall mirror
inside her mother's wardrobe
she was wearing
a short black dress
her hair was tied
in a bun at the back
I stood watching her
uncertain why
we were in her parents' bedroom
and why she was *********
her mother’s clothes
hanging on hangers inside
I looked around the room
a big bed made tidily
a chest of drawers
a built in cupboard
a picture on the wall
opposite the bed
of some country scene
and above the bed
a huge crucifix
made from wood
with a plaster Christ
look at this one
Lizbeth said
I looked at her hand
taking out a long red dress
she held it up
then put in front of herself
and turned to face me
what do you think?
it's a bit gaudy
I said
shall I try it on?
no I can see
what it would
look like on you
I said
she sniffed it
she must bathe
in **** scent
Lizbeth said
she did a spin
holding the dress
against her
how do I look in it?
she's taller than you
it'll fit her better
I said
not so sure
Lizbeth said
hold this
I held the dress in my hand
she unzipped her black dress
at the back
and pulled the black dress
over her head
and stood there
in a white bra and *******
give it here
she said
and taking the dress
she put it on
her own black dress
was on the floor
here zip me up
at the back
she said
I zipped her up
at the back
watching the straps
of the white bra disappear
as I zipped her up
she turned on the spot
and looked at herself
in the tall mirror
well? how do I look now?
well at least
it's longer
than your own black dress
I said
it came to her ankles
she looked down at it
yes too ****** long
she said
unzip me Benny
she said
I unzipped her
seeing the strap
of the white bra
come back into view
she pulled the dress
over her head
and put it back
on the hanger
she stood there
in bra and *******
how do I look now?
undressed
I said
do you like me
like this?
I feel kind of
uncomfortable
you standing like that
I said
why do you feel
uncomfortable?
what if your parents
come home now
and see you like this
and me here with you
and you in your underclothes?
she smiled
guess they'll feel
uncomfortable then
she said
I picked up her black dress
best out it on
I said
now?
yes now
my parent's bed is over there
all made up and fresh
and waiting for us
she said sexily
I stood holding
the black dress in my hand
where are your parents?
out some place
when will they be back?
don't know
best get your dress on
and out of their room
I said
what about my room?
the bed's smaller
and unmade
and the room's untidy
but we can still
do it there?
I heard voices from downstairs
is that them back?
I said in a low voice
Lizbeth pulled a face
**** me yes
let's get to my room
and so she put
the red dress back
in the wardrobe
and shut it up
and we rushed across
the landing to her room
and shut the door
behind us
I looked around her room
it was as she said
untidy
the bed unmade
books
LPs
soiled washing
over the floor
and the curtains unopened
that was kind of close
she said
yes
I said
downstairs the voices
were loud
and a row seemed
to be going on
but Lizbeth seemed unconcerned
standing there
in her white *******
and bra
holding the black dress
gazing towards
the unmade bed
but I had other problems
swimming around
inside my teenage head.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Almost
by Michael R. Burch
We had—almost—an affair.
You almost ran your fingers through my hair.
I almost kissed the almonds of your toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost contemplated using Nair
and adding henna highlights to your hair,
while I considered plucking you a Rose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost found the words to say, “I care.”
We almost kissed, and yet you didn’t dare.
I heard coarse stubble grate against your hose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
You almost called me suave and debonair
(perhaps because my chest is pale and bare?).
I almost bought you edible underclothes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost asked you where you kept your lair
and if by chance I might ****** you there.
You almost tweezed the redwoods from my nose.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
We almost danced like Rogers and Astaire
on gliding feet; we almost waltzed on air ...
until I mashed your plain, unpolished toes.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
I almost was strange Sonny to your Cher.
We almost sat in love’s electric chair
to be enlightninged, till our hearts unfroze.
We almost loved,
that’s always how love goes.
Keywords/Tags: Almost, love, lost love, loss, lost, relationship, relationships, hesitation, procrastination, hesitancy, vacillation, near, near miss, nearly, close call, miss you, missing you, missing, loneliness, lonely
Jan 6, 2022
Jan 6, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
I.
My teachers tell me
(Cockeyed and smirking)
That my looks
Can be deceiving.
Bastos ka pala?
And they're not wrong.
Disrobe me, and
You will find
**** and ash
Running up my veins,
Unvirgin pupils
Lapping up
Every last drop
Of that
***** joke.
II.
Oh, how the rain falls!
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:57 AM UTC
The photographer
says to sit
and be at ease.
You sit on the chair
he has left for you.
Eye the studio
old photos on the walls
a tripod and camera
in front.
He standing there
bespectacled
dark haired.
You want
your photograph
with the headpiece on?
he says.
Yes it was my mother's
you reply.
He nods
and arranges
the headpiece
to set it straight
and even at the sides.
You have very
distinctive eyes
he says
standing back
gazing at you.
Your nose
is straight
and aligns
with the center
of your chin.
You say nothing
your nerves are bad
you want him
to get on with it
but sit waiting.
He takes the camera
and sets it before you.
He disappears
behind the camera.
You freeze
frightened to move
your hands stiff
in your lap.
Relax
he says
the camera
won't bite.
You feel hot
in the black dress
you sense
your underclothes
stick to your skin.
You try and relax
pretend he's not there
but behind him
over his shoulder staring
is your mother's ghost
or so seems
like a figure
haunting dreams.
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
Miriam coming out of her tent
caught the early morning sun;
let it transform her into slow
wakefulness; allowed herself to be
caressed by its heat, its motherly
warmth. Her companion in the
tent, some girl from Lancashire
who spoke such utter tripe, slept
and snored on. She scanned
the field of tents, red and blue
across the greenness. She wished
she knew where Benny's tent was,
but it was pouring with rain last
evening and both fled to their tents
to avoid getting wetter than they
already were. How wet she got,
right down to her underclothes;
sticking to her skin, which had
to be peeled off, and trying to do
all that in the small tent unable
to stand, with the girl gawking
at her as if she'd never seen a
naked body before. She zipped
up the tent, and made her way
up to the campsite restaurant
through the green field still damp
dampening her shoes. The restaurant
was busy; people talking, queuing
up for food and drink, table upon
table packed with other campers.
She lined up; she'd find a table
after; sit where ever. Benny found
her and told her where he was
and the table. She felt a thrill enter
her; a sense of excitement flowed
through her body as if someone
had switched a switch and sent
off a deep overriding desiring itch.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
A gentleman
brought these clothes
in for you Grace
Nurse Kavel says
what clothes?
what gentleman?
I ask
sitting up in the bed
on the ward
new dress and underclothes
and I think he said his name
was Philip Kimberly
Nurse Kavel says
I smell perfume
and disinfect mixed
I hear voices around me
is he here?
I ask
no he brought these
in early this morning
while you were asleep
the nurse says
what colour is the dress?
I ask
red with flowers
and where he got it from
I have no idea
the cost in coupon points
must have been a lot I guess
the nurse says
where is it?
I ask
I hear her nearby
and she places a dress
in my lap
I feel it and touch
the material with my fingers
I can't see the colour
I say
what kind of red?
blood red and white flowers
she says
I put the dress to my cheek
and sense its softness
and feel the quality
is it nice?
I ask
it's beautiful
the nurse says near me
did he say when
he was coming again?
I ask
wondering what Philip
looked like how he dressed
I only knew his voice
and that was all
he will be in later
to arrange when
to take you out
although he wants to speak
with Dr Symonds first
about you and any risks
I sense doubt in her voice
will I be allowed out to dinner?
I ask
we will make sure the stumps
of your legs are well bandaged
and you are presentable
she says
what's he look like?
Mr Kimberly?
yes I've not seen him before
I say
he's handsome
and well dressed
she says softly
she takes the dress
from my hands
I’ll put the dress away
in your cupboard for safety
she says
and I hear her walk away
and lay there
staring into darkness
hearing voices in the ward
wondering where
he will take me for dinner
and how I will cope in public
without legs or sight
like walking into the coldness
of an out there night.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
We're back from dinner,
and that piano recital
she wanted to go see
some pianist
at some hall
in the City
playing Chopin
and Ravel.
She's unwrapping herself
from the small coat
she was wearing
and puts it on a chair
in our hotel room
and stands there
swaying some.
Fingers, that pianist's fingers
how they moved
over the black
and white keys,
Abela says,
she gestures
with her fingers
in mid air,
didn't he play well?
Yes he did,
I say,
watching her movement,
best get you
ready for bed.
What bed already?
why the night is young,
she replies,
get to bed yourself,
I'm not ready for sleepy byes.
She wanders drunkenly
over to the window
and stares out:
what a fine night it is,
she says.
I walk over to her
and stand nearby:
bed is best for you,
I say.
What?
O I see
you want your ***
don't you
want your ***
before I pass out.
She turns and gazes at me:
no I want you into bed
so you don't fall down
or sleep on the floor
as you did
the other night,
I say.
I didn't sleep
on the floor,
I slept in the bed,
she says.
She walks swaying
to the bed and sits down:
there you are, I’m on the bed,
happy now
Mr **** Man?
She says,
looking at me
or past me.
Sure, but into bed
is best,
I say.
O Benny, you're such
a worrier,
here give me a kiss
and then turn
on that radio,
I want music,
she says.
I kiss her,
then go to the radio
and switch it on,
and Mahler come on
his 5th symphony.
O Mahler,
she says,
depressing ****
here get me
out of these clothes.
I go to her
and begin to unzip
her dress
and she sits there
swaying.
Haven't you
unzipped me yet?
God I never felt
so useless.
I take off the dress
by lying her down
and pulling the dress
down over her feet,
and she lies there
********* the air
in a conductor pose,
then I sit her up
and put on her nightdress,
a thin thing of blue
and over her head
and get her arms in
and pull down.
She just sits there
and stares:
what about
my underclothes?
Going to leave
those on ?
Don't you want
them off?
She says.
If you want them off,
I can,
I say.
She lies on the bed
and gazes at the light shade
a white thing
gathering dust.
I take off her underwear
and get her into bed
and her head on the pillow.
There go to sleep,
I say,
I’ll sleep on the sofa,
best that way,
I say.
Sleep alone then,
lover boy,
forget the ***
she says.
Her eyes close
and I go to the sofa,
trying to sleep,
but only doze.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 6:50 AM UTC
You think more
of Mr Eddington
her father said
than almost
anything else
and she knew she did
but her father drew the line
at her having him in her bed
and her mother
wasn’t so keen either
I don’t want cat’s hairs
on the pillowcases
or on those sheets
or blankets
and so Mr Eddington
had to stay out
of her bed
and be content
to sit by the window
or on the window ledge
or on the small carpet
by the chest of drawers
and don’t feed
the **** cat
at the table
her father said
it isn’t polite
to have cat’s spittle
on your hands
while eating
and so she sat
on the chair
with one foot
on the stool
in that
I don’t give
a **** pose
and Mr Eddington
sat himself
comfortably
by the stool
and she sang him
one of those
Rock and Roll songs
she liked or recited
an Ezra Pound poem
which her father disliked
or she put her hands
behind her head
and whistled part
of an Elvis Presley song
which her mother said
wasn’t ladylike at all
and to sit like that
her father said
with your leg up
with underclothes showing
is just not on at all
now sit like a lady
would sit
he said
and there were times
Jezebel thought
she wished them
both dead
so long as Mr Eddington
was there
she just didn’t care.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:05 AM UTC
Hadasa
deflowered
lay smiling
on the floor
of the gym
amongst ropes
P.E. mats
skipping ropes
behind thick
black curtains
we listen
for voices
coming near
the gym door
or anyone
entering
from outside
no one comes
in recess
she tells me
the teacher
of P.E.
never comes
she goes home
I am glad
this moment
would be spoilt
if someone
came in now
I reply
she puts her
underclothes
back on slow
savouring
the moment
of freedom
I pull up
and zip up
then we lay
looking up
at the gym
what would we
have done if
they'd come in?
she asks me
I don't know
I reply
but I do
imagine
us frozen
laying there
you beneath
my body
me on top
backside bare.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
I’m not sorry we were in love,
and I’m not sorry we broke up,
but I am sorry we couldn’t stay friends.
There isn’t a mind with only happy memories,
but I find myself living in those the most.
at least now.
It took me some time to get over the anger,
and the sadness.
But now all I think about is Mac n’ cheese at 2 am.
Hockey nights, freezing my *** off so you’d feel alive.
The first time I thought, I love this woman, while you cried in my arms.
The first time I said “I love you, my dear.” sitting across the bed from you.
Making fun of the stupid people on the bus and their “it’s called two-s-day because it is the second day of the week.”
Watching you stay upright for an entire run down the bunny hill.
Waking up in the morning to the cracking of your back,
Going to bed with your toes bundled up in socks.
Kissing your forehead, because I loved all of you, even the parts you didn’t like.
Taking your rings off just to pretend that someday I’d put a different one on.
Meeting your mom and realizing that you are the same person only 20 years younger and 30 pounds lighter
Watching the sun turn your green eyes blue, then blue to green, then green to grey.
Drinking that god awful mix you thought was *** and coke.
Showing you what an actual *** and coke should taste like, and laughing when you said “Too sweet.”
The nights you’d lure me from the controller to bed with a lack of underclothes.
The mornings I’d ease the tension the night built in your back.
Feeling you quiver and gasp for air as you reached ecstacy with me.
The first time we reached it simultaneously… while watching hockey.
Hearing you say something in a kid voice when you were being cute.
The first time you kissed me, instead of waiting for my lips.
Always feeling super lazy when you had papers for class written a week out and I hadn’t even started on.
The way you held me after the cave broke me.
The way you held me when I saw you for the first time in months.
Snowball the bunny, and his ***** stuffed ears, I’m sure he’ll hate me forever.
Watching you struggle through Spyro the Dragon and not saying anything cause you hated people to tell you what to do.
The last time we snuck out to make love holding you in my arms.
The smell of your hair against my face…
I’ll always miss those moments my entire life,
I just hope you’ll miss me too.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
There is
the open book
her inquisitive look
the way
with one stockinged leg
hanging over
the arm
of the chair
the centre parted
wavy dark hair
and he sitting
across from her
at the writing desk
writing to his mother
saying how good
he was being
all alone in Paris
reading the books
she’d sent
paying his way
paying the rent
eating out
working in
getting
the studying done
leaving the girls alone
no late nights
no *****
no cigarettes
no sadness
or regrets
and looking up
from the letter paper
seeing her opposite
with his book
open on her lap
her black
laddered stockings
the way she sits
invitingly
him smiling
dotting the i’s
and crossing
the t’s
periods at the end
whispering
to the dame
be there soon
kisses on the bottom
of the letter
for mother
and the dame’s
(bottom)
maybe later
letting the ink dry
imaging what
beneath
the dame’s dress
and underclothes
may wait
and his
deep sigh.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
Great Aunt Maria? Oh,
We say nothing of her.
She was your great
Grandfather’ sister; bit
Of a lost cause, I’m afraid.
You found a photograph
Of her? Where? What were
You doing going through
Grandmother’s things and
She not yet cold in her grave.
You show Mother the photo
And she screws up her eyes,
Taking in the woman pictured
There. How could she pose
With her underclothes on and
Smoking a cigarette, too. My
God, Colin, you shouldn’t be
Looking at this, look at the pose,
The way she stands, as if posing
Like that was normal and she’s
Actually smiling. Mother puts
The photo against her breast,
Facedown, the blank off-white
Side uppermost. To think she
Was related to us. If she was a
Daughter of mine…Grandmother
Seldom spoke of her. To have
This photo in her belongings.
Mother takes a quick peep at
The photo, then turns it over
Again. If I posed like that,
Mother says, Grandfather
Would have tanned my hide.
You stand and wish she’d
Hand you back the photo,
Finders keepers kind of thing;
But no, she tucks it away in
Her apron pocket, then wipes
Her hands on the flowered
Cloth as if contaminated.
You’re glad you never
Showed her the other one
Of Great Aunt Maria; that one’s
Raunchier and much more fun.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
im bold to hold you //
sand in folds of our underclothes //
you were still holding my hand
when a strange feeling arose
like rose taste in a gin
and yet again i feel blue //
it makes you question up at me
in depths of these conquerable waters
cold //
~ A.M, F.H.
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 10:32 PM UTC
You want to be a nun?
Magdalene said
sitting on her bed
in her room
with Martha sitting
beside her
listening to a Beatles LP
on the record player on the floor
Martha said
yes one of those ones
who pray all day
not like those at school
who have to teach
brats like us
Magdalene smiled
who'd be a fecking nun
like that but to be
a contemplative nun
is something else
Martha like out
of this world so it is
Martha gazed
at the turning LP
on the turntable
I want to be a bride
of the Crucified
she said
Magdalene stared at her
bride of Christ?
she said
Martha nodded
in some convent miles
from anywhere
and no fellars around
to touch you
or lift your fecking
dress or skirt
and ask to see
your underclothes
********
Magdalene sensed
Martha near
her thigh close to hers
almost touching
she smelt of soap and toast
odd combination
but that's Martha
she let her elbow
touch Martha's
that's boys for you
always out for something
Magdalene said
wishing Martha
would turn around now
and kiss her
but she knows she won't
but she like Mary best
she's probably would
kiss hopefully one day
ciggie?
Martha said
getting a packet out
of her dress pocket
Magdalene nodded
and took a cigarette
and Martha lit both cigarettes
and they sat
and inhaled
in thought
when I see or touch
the Crucified I come out
in goosebumps
Martha said suddenly
Magdalene frowned
what the real one?
she said
no the Crucified
in church or at school
in the hall
the big one who spreads
His arms wide
and looks skyward
Magdalene smiled
and put a hand around
Martha's shoulder
that's cute
she said
I kiss His feet in church
when no one's looking
Martha said
or on my rosary
but His feet are small on that
and I'm probably kissing
His legs as well
not that He'd mind
but it's feet I like
to kiss like that
Mary Magdalene did
she said
Magdalene wished
she could kiss any part
of Martha
just the once or so
she hugged her tight
as she spoke
and mused
you never know.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC
Miriam
**********
in the tent
out of wet
underclothes
where the dim
hippy guy
spilt his drink
on purpose
by design
or by sheer
clumsiness
was unclear
the short skirt
a bright red
was now stained
Benedict
had not seen
he was off
in Tangier
sight-seeing
she tosses
the wet stuff
in a bag
and pulls out
dry clean clothes
from the white
new suitcase
her parents
had bought her
for the trip
she dresses
and goes out
of the tent
avoiding
the hippy
in the bar
with red beard
and guitar
and goes sit
on the beach
wondering
what it was
Benedict
was doing
she wishes
he was there
making love
hot with her
his fingers
in her hair.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Edna drew the curtains
on the night sky;
Nellie was already in bed,
watching.
Did you undress
without drawing
the curtains?
Edna said.
It was in the dark;
I didn't light the candle
until after.
The candle flickered
in the candle holder.
Shame about the old dear;
do think she'll cope
now the old buzzard is dead?
Edna said.
Her daughter
said she will,
Nellie said,
watching as the maid
began to undress.
**** wasn't so sure;
she reckons
she'll peg out next,
Edna said.
What does old **** know;
she's just the cook,
Nellie replied.
She studied Edna
wash quickly
in her underclothes.
****** cold,
Edna said.
Come to bed then,
said Nellie,
and I'll warm you.
Edna dried herself quickly;
then put on
her old nightgown.
Poor old dear,
Edna said quietly.
She climbed into
the old bed
and pulled the blankets
over them.
Nellie blew out the candle
and the room in the attic
was swollwed by darkness,
except for a slither
of moonlight
which pushed through
the parting
where the curtains
didn't meet.
Edna giggled.
Quiet,
Nellie whispered.
Well don't
touch me there,
Edna replied.
Where?
Nellie said.
Edna giggled again:
There,
she muttered.
Outside
it began to rain.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
She had crossed the bridge
Many a time: Back and forth
From school; to work and
Back, bored almost brainless.
Mostly it was hectic. From
Time to time it was eerie empty.
Especially at night when she
Crossed it with Quinn after
The cinema or the bar or both.
It was there, that her da had
Told her of the cancer that
Crept in his lungs. The look
In his face, the baritone words
Erupting from his mouth, the
Yellow tinge in features marking
Him out for death’s touch. Today
She stood by the bridge wall half
Way across looking down at the
Water. People passed behind,
Unaware she was there, blinded
By their own destination to be
Elsewhere. The water was dull
And ***** not as she’d imagined
In her pensive thoughts. Not clear
As glass. Not clean. Yet she knew
It well. Knew the waters. Today it
Spoke in water talk. Come in it
Seemed to say. Jump in. The water’s
Lovely. Death’s here too like a
Comforting groom. To end it all.
The loss of Da, the melancholic
Madness of Mother, her own child’s
Demise before her eyes, Quinn’s
Deception, his mistress’s conception.
All that was too much; too soon.
The bridge would suffice. The
Cold water a baptism of death.
Always wear clean underclothes,
Her mother advised; you never
Know what accident might happen,
And who may find you, she‘d said.
Clean and presentable even when dead.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
That Sunday after church
after singing in the choir
after getting off the bus
and walking into
the small woods
behind your house
the skies opened
and rain fell
and you and she
ran for cover
beneath the trees
the raindrops slipping
through the leaves
and branches
and dropping
on your heads
and clothes
and she said
what will Mother say
this is my best dress
and she laughed
and you looked
at the beauty of her
and the freshness of rain
washing away
whatever sins
may have lurked
on her youthful flesh
and you kissed her lips
and she hugged you close
and the rain fell heavier
and you didn’t care
just standing there
hugging and kissing
the clothes becoming heavier
with wetness
and her dress
clinging to her
revealing her shape
and the outline
of her underclothes
and as you stood back
and gazed at her
and she at you
there was the distant sound
of thunder
and she looked up
and away and shivered
and said
let’s run let’s go
and what may have happened
if the thunder never sounded
and you hadn’t run
you’ll never know.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
a woman
in muddy underclothes
looking at all things
starless
feels frog bone
nudge
the base of her skull
as her friends
wade, dive
and wrongly
mourn-
it’s only her costume
in the water.
it will become the small talk
of Halloween
2013
and vanquish
the split apart
three year old
apportioned
to any phrasing
of the inmate
on the Ohio row
who on the day
of execution
dressed himself
as a God
easier found
than vein
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
Tilly's mother
was out in the garden
hanging washing;
she'd let me in reluctantly,
and said Tilly
was changing the bedding,
and would be down soon.
I looked about the room
while I waited;
the furniture was old,
and photographs
were on most surfaces
old and new ones,
a photograph of Tilly
as a young girl,
a family group in some field,
no one smiled,
all looked at the camera
with distrust.
I could see Tilly's mother
walk by the window
with a basket
of damp clothes,
then she hung underclothes
with wooden pegs,
and I wondered
whose they were,
maybe the old girl's
as they were not Tilly's kind
from my memory.
The sky was blue,
and clouds drifted by.
Been waiting long?
Tilly said,
standing by the door.
About a week or so,
I said.
She laughed,
liar how long?
A few minutes,
your mum let me in
with a face of granite,
I said.
Tilly came and sat
next to me on the sofa,
and kissed me on the lips.
Just changed the bedding,
she said,
if you had come earlier
you could have helped me.
I guess I could,
I said,
could have maybe done
other things too.
She smiled,
it's your mind,
I meant bedding,
Tilly said.
So did I,
I said.
What are you two up to?
her mother said,
coming into the room
and staring at us.
Just sitting and talking,
Tilly said,
done the bedding.
Her mother looked at me,
want a cup of tea?
She said.
Yes, that'd be good,
I said.
Off you go then Tilly,
her mother said,
and Tilly
made the tea instead.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC