There is passion, there is zest, And running down white pillars, mess; Defiled temple, gleeful blaspheme, The vestal pulls up her ankled jeans. Rebuckles up to shushing sounds, Reorders his shirt before they’re found, A bruising kiss, a new spark to tinder: But stop: she has to be home for dinner.
The questions that define our lives are dotted over with hows and whys though not in the way you might expect: the biggest are not the questions we most respect. Though I will talk of God and death with you And probe the recesses of your views, I am more earnest in having you explain [...]
When I am in the surf, letting my cork body bounce along the foam; The champagne sea bursts around me; Splashing and thick with froth; God save me from kelp that brushes, bubble-light, my ankles and reminds me: someday I will drown.
“Muse!” I commanded, “Come sit with me, And tell me what I should write!” But the Muse grumbled and turned away, Insolent, disobedient sprite. “Muse!” I ordered, “Behave yourself! Come guide my wandering thoughts!” But the Muse looked at the window, humming, Refusing to help as she ought. “Muse!” I insisted, “What insolence! How dare [...]
Though the Saturdays are colder now And the arthritis makes holding the fag harder; She plays. Zipped up, rustling coat, She calls, hoarses loudly, bangles jangle, “Look out for the Goal Attack!” Her ankles and knees, Worn to wicker, Grind silently. Her lungs and throat, Scorched to dust, Rasp. She urges the group to success, [...]
My cat speaks French But my dog does not, Preferring to bark in Icelandic. My boyfriend the polymath Can speak to them both, So handy: as though he planned it. Between the three of us, We manage to converse, Into the warm spring evenings, Occasional misquotes, Only delight us, And create humourous upheavenings.
Back, where the dust is broken by footprints, back and forth, along the floorboards, where the curtain cracks are terrifying streams of light and audience, where all is vibrating silence, wait. Time grows thick. Suddenly all the moments, the wasted slipshods of rehearsal, gather force and respect, the smell of the dust and curtains fuels [...]
I have begun, in the interests of health, to run. I have jarred my knees, and incurred four blisters on either side of either foot, and now each step, (former blissful padded pace!) is a hot and jangled effort. I have not begun, in the interests of honesty, to find it fun.
The commute, the migration, the mackerel swarm, Hard fish, we teem down the paths too-worn to notice our fin-prints our tyre marks, we seethe in a mass to scare away sharks. The river, the road, the path estuary, the migration, the breeding the feeding unwary, shoal home and sleep with one open glass eye watch [...]
It’s lazy late and luxurious the sleepy Sunday afternoon. There is a pause and, familiar, the blissful fatigue that comes from drinking too much red wine at lunch and watching fishing shows all afternoon. We had Sunday roast and then lay on the couch, arms and legs about. We watched a trout get caught, kissed, [...]
