Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Child Anatomy

Baby, your head is transparent

I can see the machinations

And us,

Twisted round your tiny fingers.

In the soft light of the afternoon

Your talcum smeared chest heaves

With each gentle parting of your lips

That utter lie

Upon lie.


Who never cries when no one is looking

Hymns in church in little frocks.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

London Town

Rain makes white noise. It had dampened our shoulders and shoes sending shivers with each gust while we waited in the tube station.

There you were, Marley ,back from the dead.

“Oh, my little darlin'
Don't shed no tears
No womahn no cry
Nooo womahnn,”

You outsounded the rain

“…No cry.”

I stood in the corner of the corridor a little afraid. Of the light that swam above your head against the blackness called EXIT. Of the walls that performed a capella for you and your harmonica. I stood clutching the coins ,incapable of giving you alms.