Saturday, 16 March 2013
Stories from a train
Begin with context
(from an inner blank), all you’ve got
these last few days.
Open your mouth and start
to talk. Waggle your tongue and grate
a larynx, poke an index finger
away from the dyke and let out a flood;
a torrent of words that finally, finally,
finally, will have their say.
Winter: central heating;
Spring: try garden wall;
Summer: where you’ve been;
Autumn: snow and branches start to fall.
More fleeting than characters in any book,
twaddle-words fly fast and empty
up to a hole-in-the-sky without the need
for smoke and mirrors, or an aching heart.