astonishing
So we had this conversation about the inner voice we use to talk to ourselves, the superego vocalised, dredged up or down from that part that is trying to do something, anything
but as we know, it’s almost impossible, and it’s better not to do much in any case,
But sometimes you have to
*
H’s voice was brutal, like a starchy headmistress;
B’s Stoic;
Mine a version of my mother’s
“come on, Piglet!” encouraging with a hint of future
And why is there always one tangerine that ruins it for all the others
citrus gone bad
before its date
lead powder, everywhere, that smell, cleaning gone sour
and you wake up again
astonishing
everyone was more cynical at four than at forty
and you remember
and suddenly there are seagulls everywhere (a rough day at sea, your grandmother says, still, somewhere)
and it’s like the maritime version of The Birds
and you see a man in the park, the real one, not the one for cars
a real man too
and he is being swirled by them, surrounded by food
and what if a little crow was in your palm and you had to look after it
and you pull the hair from the hole in the bath
both satisfying and horrible
soapgrease bauble too big to pull up by a single thread
tug it through until it snaps
this threaded iceberg
And it was a good year
the familiar damage
make friends with your daemon
you do not need to hold its head under water
“A demon a day keeps the doctor away”
What silly books you have
Read them all again
Well, probably, I would have done some things differently
In the rewind, though, you do the same thing
every
single
time
No, I would not have done things differently
It is what it is
.
On Boxing day, a sudden realisation
The flat is filled with demons.
in the cupboard
behind the bookcase
in your papers, decades old
words without context; thoughts without ideas
Above the cold room that holds the bins.
Black mould; yellow in the bathroom;
It’s not like I have anything against mould
It seeks to thrive as we all do
I miss the moths that the beautiful Polish girl brought in her cereal
Which, though we nuked the cupboards, well, not her, we could not find them all
And all the nicer fabric got eaten
Well at least they have taste
Absolutely Not (Winter, 2022)
.
And the crow that sits on the little, hmm, what is it, a chimney, a poor excuse for one
Just a little pipe that sticks out of the other block
tail and wings lifted to get fluffed
The parrots, meanwhile, watch from the tree
green droplets of judgement
On a lower branch, the pigeons are ignoring each other
thinking of fat
and it is very good when you do almost nothing
and one day you will go, or I will
and one of us will remain
And it is summer again