It happens in unexpected ways, on lovely ordinary days and quiet bus rides home. Two men discussing cricket.. arguing over points or wickets or whatever it is they do. “My dad loves cricket.” I hear myself say.. to the window.. the girl in the glass.
“Grown men standing around on the grass all day.”
“You’d like it if you understood.” he’d say. So I’d sit a while and listen and watch his eyes glistening, glued to the screen, as he’d try to explain the mind-numbing game.
“Hmmmmm…” I’d say….and he’d wave me away with mock disdain. “You’re all like your mother. Go…play with your hair. Phone your friends and go somewhere.”
“Awe… Dad… don’t be that way.”
“Go on. Go on….and don’t come home too late.”
A dream of sending a rocket to the moon. Dusk in the loft of a barn, I promise no harm to the sole feline crew who meows and complies. The rest of the night I wait and watch the night sky for her safe return.
Flowing East to moonlight, rose-coloured water and sky. First Autumn clouds sighed. Pink-hued wavelets shone, and suddenly the day was gone as a dark blue curtain fell, and the soft harbour whispered… “touch me.. fall into me, sky…. come share this ink delight.” And so it seemed that heaven and water were one in sweet dark night.
Are you staying?” I already knew the answer, the small, chilled word in my chest.
“No. I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
A silent moment there, neither daring to touch the jagged edge. He stared down at his hands, beautiful, smooth. “I just can’t.”
Continue reading “The Last Goodbye”
Incessant wind, howling over exterior walls. Treetop branches bent to cruel angles, don’t fall. Passing car.. heavy beat… otherwise the street is bare, save for the eerie atmosphere. Continue reading “The Wind”
I see you coming South, to the bay. Come, make your way. I’m not scared. I’m waiting. Come, close the distance. Soft licks of air, cool fingers. Come. I breathe you, taking velvet steps toward you, like a cat. I’m here where you can see me, here where you can have me, and I feel you coming… and the clouds roll up beneath us and thundering, you roar…. smashing open the sky and even heaven is crying as we shake the last hours from this day and feel our rain of tears disappear as they fall.
Last night in my dreams, I had drawn a tropical storm. Dark, menacing beauty. Gusts of charcoal rendered paper houses ripped and torn.
Then…combing my hair with my fingers. Ribbons of light in a darkened room.
“I have to leave soon.” he said. I already knew. “We could write” he began.
I touched my hands to his lips, “Sssh…” and the blue-grey cotton of his shirt, already feeling him gone.
Years later. “It was never going to last. We were young.”
“We don’t know that.” he whispered into the phone.
glistening blue-grey sea……………………..
glistening dew-kissed grass and trees……………………..
still November air and birdsong……………………..
still blue-grey bay and sky……………………..
still without you……………………..
This is a ‘butterfly cinquain’ – a nine-line syllabic verse
of the pattern 2 / 4 / 6 / 8 / 2 / 8 / 6 / 4 / 2
Elevator. Ascend. Thoughts of… nothing. Then, a friend. Long ago. Soft, ever-present ache. Vhooooooom…. reflected silence, smooth and cool, the back of my hand against the glass. The past is the past is my mountain, my hill, is an undissolved pill without resolution or hint of an end, remembering faces of long ago friends. BING! This is me. I straighten my dress and step out.
He saw her today. She was walking and glanced his way, but didn’t see him. Versions of her in shop windows looked West and he knew it was best to turn away… leave reasons for another day. In quiet moments he’ll think of her, though he knows there’s no returning to a life that never was.
Summer rain over the bay. Lit by a pale amber street lamp, drops fall like sequins past my window. Suddenly a MAGNIFICENT BOLT OF HORIZONTAL LIGHTNING over the water obliterates for several seconds a passing ship and cast an electric-pink glow across the underside of the clouds above. I’ve never seen lightning behave that way.
To think… this day I felt so tired…. drained and uninspired. I sensed the sidewalk stained with unrealised hopes and desires of my fellow city workers. Wondered if I too would melt away….leave my story unfinished another thousand days.
ANOTHER PURE WHITE SLICE ACROSS THE SKY! Exquisite violence! AND AGAIN THE SKY IS SHAKEN WHITE..Beare Park, bright as day, 8.52 at night.
Pouring down now. Massive thunder rolling in from the sea, frightens poor dogs.
JESUS CHRIST THAT WAS LOUD!!!!!! THUNDER CLAP DIRECTLY OVERHEAD. ALMOST IMMEDIATELY THE SKY ABOVE THE BAY FLASHED WHITE AGAIN AND THERE WAS A SOUND LIKE…..3 GUN SHOTS one after the other, which caught me off-guard and I screamed! No, really! Was that thunder? Lightning? What the hell WAS that?