Strange Place

Today I saw 

a woman lying halfway up an escalator

she was curled on her side, like she was sleeping

She didn’t move at all

I was alerted to her presence 

as I stood at the check-out paying for two air-fresheners

by the cashier

who neither acknowledged my presence

nor made eye contact with me

as she scanned my items

she was looking over my shoulder

and I heard her softly say

“that woman …”

I turned and walked out

and sure enough

that woman

was lying down

while halfway up an escalator

which had been stopped and a concertina-like barrier erected

to prevent anyone stepping on

two people were with her

holding phones

hoping they would

tell them what to do

about a lady lying down on an escalator

in a busy suburban shopping centre

while all around people

bought their groceries 

with covered faces

and all I could think was

what a strange, surreal place for a life to leave a body

Today I saw

a twelve-pack of bottled water

shrink-wrapped in turtle-killing plastic

by the side of the footpath on the grass

brand new and unopened

and I thought

what a strange place 

for something to land 

it can’t have fallen off a truck

and I paused my stride

no one else around

except a steady stream of cars

on this busy street

and I thought

“could I?”

“It’s free water”

“The plastic is cooking in this direct winter sun”

“I better not”

“I don’t need any trouble”

“Although, it is just lying here”

“How long’s it been here?”

“How long will it be here for”

No, I better not”

“It’s heavy anyway, and I’m still a block from home”

“I don’t need any trouble”

I walked on

A man comes out of a house across the road

in business slacks and shirt and tie

Unusual attire for a suburban street

and he runs across the road and picks up the water

and I think

what a strange place to leave bottles of water

Playing Dress-Ups

What is it with grown men and costumes?
White peaked hoods
Black cassocks
Epaulettes
Ornate pointy headwear
Sweeping, swooshing robes
with gold and glitz
that make a mockery of vows of poverty
of sackcloth and ashes
Ceremonial tunics
with braiding and sashes
and swords and dashes of brass
and lashes of buttons
that attempt to dress up mass-murder
as a noble career
What is it with grown men and costumes?

Perfect Me

How much longer will my luck run in
Do I have a decade or a day left to begin
to perfect me
I can see where I need to be
because I'm not there yet
far from it

sometimes I think I want to burn the house down

to ashes

maybe the whole suburb

this city

take some dust to the sea

spread it reverently 

start from nothing again

another chance

one more go at this

do a better job

see the potholes, the pitfalls, the horrors

before they take a hold

and warp

the perfect me

that was

Keep Me (a birthday poem)

Your arms that hold me

Your mind that bowls me over

Your smile in profile

Your hands and arms

Your charm

Your humour and honour

And your understanding

All keep me in love with you

Already An Answer

I want to lie with your arms around me as we figure this shit out

or decide it doesn’t really need solving

because

where’s the problem?

there’s not one when we’re together

It’s not a riddle when we’re together

how we fit

is already an answer

and solution

to a jigsaw puzzle of two pieces

Weight

I found the notepad I wrote in

leading up to her death

where I kept a record of my weight loss

I was disappearing

in incremental stages

the numbers ticking backwards

I remember being fascinated

and wondering just how far I'd fade

the last entry made the day before she died

I wish when I die

to leave no trace

no shift in the air

nor imprint on a pillow

or even a memory in another's mind

no clothes in a cupboard

no hair in a brush

no half-read book on a bedside table

I wish it to be as if I was never there

or here

so when I get to my end

like numbers on a page

I just count backwards to nowhere

you're really not coming back

So this is how it's going to be
you're really not coming back
I feel that now

I know you would do anything necessary and required to return

if you could
but not for yourself
it was never death that scared you
it was leaving us behind

you're really not coming back

I feel that now
the weight of that knowledge
is a new presence
that makes me miss you more than ever
it's been too long and it'll only get longer

I feel that now

did I think this would get easier?

it seems to sometimes

most times

and then I just really want to see you

but you're really not coming back 

and the weight of that knowledge
presses in like panic 

I feel that now

I remember us cleaning the screens with soapy water from a bucket

I had my own little brush, the bristles were coloured rainbow bright

I remember the chairs moved away from the table

into a straight row down the hall 

so you could wash the floor

and I would imagine they were the seats on a bus

and take turns trying each one out

my own driver and passengers

I remember helping you to hang out the washing

making sure the peg colours I handed to you in pairs matched 

just you and me

day after day

I miss that now

The blind birdwatcher

The blind birdwatcher sits still
listening intently to the avian chorus
recalling vividly in his mind's eye
the colours and shapes that brightened his sky

he identifies them by sound
one by one
with an insight
honed from decades of observation
of their flight and feathers

but now their songs
fill completely his unfocused eyes
he sees them with a clarity
that those too busy to bother can't even imagine

The Last Star Left

Our future has never been brighter

there are some that say we are living in a golden age

we have turned night into day

our globe glows like a luminescent phone screen

the light we emit can be seen from space

but the evening sky is as black as ink

there isn't a star to pierce and prick

through its dark swathe of infinite absence

except for one

the last star left

people venture from all four corners of this sphere

to watch it twinkle from so far

how we wonder what you are

and the elders speak of a sky sprinkled with dazzling diamonds

and the children take their photos with this shining last sentinel

as the earth turns and burns up its life

faster than light

Ladies Day

It looks like some sort of strange version of a concentration camp waiting room
we sit here in our matching drab khaki-coloured kimonos
with the opening at the front
the television's audio cuts in and out
and the image is shattered pixelation from a disrupted digital reception
but we stare at it anyway
or at our phones
careful to avoid acknowledging each other

As we wait I see she's crying
silently
just enough to require she dab the end of her nose with a tissue
she's texting someone
something, no doubt, no one should ever have to write
or read

she has the most perfect painted-pink toenails
beautiful in tan sandals
such an image of gorgeous femininity
while she sits in this clinic that detects malignancies
and I feel such overwhelming pride in the strength of my gender

my name is called and I lay down and open the robe
I think "God be with me" and she starts to probe

Seabed

It could sweep me right out

if I care to let it

or if I'm careless

it draws me in as it draws me out

it could be a battle between us 

but we settle on a gentle truce

a mostly playful pull and push

continous scoops of translucent sea

curl and rise and wash over me

it lifts and holds my body up from the floor

as if it had arms under my legs and back

and for a moment I lay slack
like I'm floating on a bed 

completely weightless

as light as the sun 

Reflex

It’s so strange the things you recall

after all this time

laying dormant

Sitting on the edge of the bed

legs dangling over the edge

again with the tests

a little hammer to the knee

boing!

it jerks reactively

What, I always worry, is he precisely wanting it to do

Should my leg shoot out like that

or is that too much?

Was that my natural reflex

or did I unintentionally exaggerate its response

and exactly why

Just why

is this man hitting my knee

what does it have to do with what’s wrong with me

could someone please just explain that to me

Pushed hard up against the wall

his hand under my chin pushes on my neck

stretches me as tall as I can be

he plots my progress on a graph 
a new dot in blue pen 

Testament

My passport and my will

are held together

inside a briefcase

in case of journeys anew or ending

As I wait for the results

I am unable to resist remembering

how you stood in the kitchen

said something wasn’t right

collapsed in my arms

I sat with your head in my lap

after we had slid to the floor

that was the beginning

of the end of it all

Those Pictures She Posted

You really were so beautiful

those pictures she posted crushed the breath from my chest

and I should have known better than to log on today

but I was doing okay

until

those pictures she posted left me exhausted

I could have fallen to the floor right there at my desk

by the end of the day

from holding it in

but I was doing okay

until

those pictures she posted

pushed me right back with a punch to grief

I should have blocked them from view

but I couldn’t do it

those pictures she posted

is all there is of you

 

Sideways From The Sun

This part of her planet has turned sideways from the sun

and the dark almost, but not quite, comforts as it covers her world completely

the dirt road to her destination is not lined with any illumination

the only glow comes from headlights

the car carries her further and further into the night

and for a moment she can’t tell if she’s earthbound or in flight

all she knows is that she’s moving

whether it’s a transition or transitory she can't tell
she's realising that recovery will be incremental
discovering that forbearance will be instrumental
this time round

but the sun will dismiss the dark come morning

she’ll hear the birds sing her world awake

their music a sweet relief from a night of silence that presses in

and this part of her planet now dresses in a light

that has no equal in clarity anywhere else that she’s ever seen

and she’ll continue her battle to get back to who she’s been