With a cracked rib,

at midnight I begin to flow
East, around a sticky bed,
like an hour hand on a clock face
- incremental, low.

At 3 a.m. I, snail-slow,
crawl and push my head
towards a warmer Southern space;
quivering for its glow.

At 6 a.m. birds’ melodies
turn me, a mechanical fool,
Westward, now a climber,
and up the bed I creep.

At 9 a.m., colder seas
turn me in my pool;
I’m North now, a returner
confused, awake, asleep.

Home Coming

A face in the carriage window
looks back from somewhere else;
close and sudden, sober,
smiling back at itself;
never to see a face sleeping,
shocked by an open mouth.

Never truly deserted,
a mirror will try to tell
(or a face in a body of water
where rippling shadows dwell)
the face of a person remembered
from the far, far base of a well

and into a world projected
where left hand points to the right
and sunset forms a backdrop,
staying awake at night,
I’m speeding backwards towards you
from a dream into your light.

Leadership

Time to drive this bus forward,
buy a ticket on board;
let’s fill every seat
and turn up the heat
until profits have soared.

Time to drive this bus faster,
who is following whom?
I’m graying, my beard’s
getting hairy, I’m scared,
so where shall we go?

Small Businessman

I’ve a need for a speed boat
and a house out of town;
my proposal’s complete,
can I have a receipt,
a card - and a loan?

In love,

I’m as rushed as a rabbit
with a blindspot because
an automatic door
won’t open before
it bangs on my nose.

Baby Cry

It burst out
like a rocket
despite my efforts
‘Noooo!’
a roar full of hurt
Andrew thumps the table
‘Don’t do it!!’
murderous loud
and a baby, wailing
at a nearby table
shuts up.
We don’t have to search
far
for Andrew’s motive
- resonance –
when a nearby
hurting’s enough
to throw every energy
(all his inside sun)
out into stopping a cry.


Two minutes later,
Andrew lays his head
on my neck,
claps a man on the back,
pokes a chap in the ear,
chats to a waitress,
glances and waves:
world’s all happy again,
life’s a grin.