sweet nothings

1
On deck the man is cradling a large fish for the camera; its silver skin flows lightly over heavy hands. He talks about the fish, admires form and muscled ocean-art. The fish is calm, moves like it’s breathing. He extends one curving gill, careful with the structure raised now like a wing about to catch the wind. Arced like a wave about to fall. The fish is breathing, drowning gracefully.

2
There is no space for me in yours. Not really, not even in imagination’s optimistic scanning of the broken clutter. Headless gothic lamps support two dolls and pictures of your love, lost in suicide. Your morphine tablets lie, scattered seed at her goddess feet. Her dainty feet, bare and fading, behind dusty glass. She stands alone for the camera. Her gaze is always to the right of you, no matter where you stand. No matter where I stand. No contact with the past,  just the constant thought of it. You talk about her carefully. Admire her nature, note how her essence shone when you took away the colours that she loved to wear. She never needed them to be beautiful, you crow. I am flowing from your hands, trying to remember why I will not meet your eye, why I hold my breath when it seems that you might speak.

urban torque

next door’s noise is rolling in while they move out.

door-slamming conversation doesn’t slow the church bells striding from street’s end, blunt-axing through neurotic wailing car alarms.

decisive click-click-clicks of next door’s switches fire at will, kill all but this headache, wondering if it’s early for red wine or just too late to stop

the noise.

on the path, beside the furrow ploughed by motorbikes last night,
a random concrete slab is resting.

i count finite tap-tap-taps of rain.

last night …

Someone tried to break into my home. Breached sanctuary. I’m ashamed of how terrified I was. How I looked around my bedroom for a weapon. Found one. How I still felt powerless as the door was heaved upon, the windows battered.

Jezzie cat stayed with me, the other two hid well.

Barricading the bedroom door I wondered if he was the one who stabbed my tank a month ago for diesel. Cost me loads I haven’t got to fix it. Thank goddess for credit cards. Hid that and the car keys. Few understand the bond between a gal and her car. And livelihood. The mortgage and stuff that needs paying for. That needs wheels. And to feel safe.

The police came and removed him from the back yard. He was just a hooded youth. Off his face. Now I’m even more ashamed. Of all of us.

a-breeze

a gentle man winks and tips an edge of smile at the hearty mango sunset. turns to wander. picking up the pace he skips to swirl a-breeze.

You shouldn’t miss me, I am always here or here about. Easy to find.
Being everywhere is just a result of fiddling with the time machinery.

rabbit preens soft-evening-velvet ears. senses poise for the heady taste of marigold.
so close. very. now.
delicious revelation caught in the hop of unexpected farewell. bite. life.

(the italics are Paul’s words)