~
Secret
this will be the one
the last time we witness
the belief, wonder and trust,
acceptance of the myth
we’ve perpetuated
gladly each year,
whilst we watch the
wonder in those blazing
saucer eyes,
this year we know
the bubble will burst
and with it the first
crack in her naivety,
leaving us to bleed
knowing she will never
fully trust us ever again
(2022)
*
Utah or Bust!
we flew to Utah yesterday
Beatrix decided we should go
so, we made some paper passports
and boarding cards to show,
then sitting on the staircase
one behind the other
grandma became cabin crew
to sort out any bother,
like suitcases, snacks and stuff
or blocking up the aisle,
she made us very comfortable
it was going to take a while, so
she showed us the life preserver
that looked suspiciously like a bra
and pointed out the exits
thar and thar and thar!
eventually we landed
tripping off the bottom stair,
to the living room for duty-frees
selecting them with care
from the fireside ornaments
old magazines and stuff,
until the clock struck midday
Beatrix had had enough, so
we climbed back up the fuselage
and tottered along the wing,
down to kitchen baggage claim
with a sprightly spring,
we’ll be keeping all those documents
for our next exciting version
of Beatrix’s staircase aeroplane
and her next pretend excursion,
we’ll travel free around the world
with her global boarding pass
and Beatrix’s imagination
Staircase Airlines
Business Class
(2019)
*
The man I am
I knew my father
the father, not the man
so, I write
that they will know me,
not me the father
me the man,
the man I am,
somewhere
amongst the words
the words I can never
say out loud, albeit
wish I could,
there I am
word for word
letter by letter,
a man waiting
to be assembled
piece by piece
*
Linger
recently, after a friend’s funeral
you turned to me and asked
‘if I died first what would you
keep of mine, what would you miss?’
wrong-footed, I couldn’t answer,
‘ten bob it’ll be me goes anyhow’
was my hasty quip,
but afterwards I did think,
long and hard, deciding
it would be your smell
I’d be lost without, the
subtle trace of perfume
on your pillowcase.
indelible as a fingerprint,
closer than your smile,
yes, that’s it
I’d miss the smell of you
*
A shred of Life
I shredded another box
of your stuff today
formal papers, business stuff
old bank statements and such
nothing very personal,
sitting there, whilst your affair
slid through my fingers
falling like snowflakes into
the angry whirring cauldron
ending life as cross-cut chaff,
I’d already decided that
it was going into the bottom
of a trench, beneath manure
for this season’s runner beans
chaff and horseshit
turned into fresh vegetables,
only one lucky escape
saved from this cutting fate
a neatly folded, important
looking fire insurance policy
from the Prudential dated
1949, priced 4s 6d
and it really made me think
it wouldn’t even be enough to
buy a box of matches today!