Wednesday, 9 August 2023

Velcro souls


to the naked girl toddling on the beach

your're out of sight and out of mind

as momentary 

as the footprints she leaves in the sand 

new dawn, new dog on the leash 

she surrenders in the arms of the present 

to me 'now' is a stranger whose grip-like embrace  

I'd like to refuse 

I close my eyes against 'now' and lock onto 'yesterday' 

when I could still run my fingers through your knotted fur

I want to burrow in that memory like wild thistle tangled in your hair

With claw-like grip

You and I, lock-and-key

Velcro souls 



Sunday, 6 August 2023

Punctured

we're going through daily rituals

but life has been punctured

we're not whole

and we're silent on the matter of shape and size of the hole

I look at the same sun- bleached peaks

all is as it was and yet none feels like a present I can own

I want your soft underbelly on the courtyard stone 

soaking up rays 

I want you lapping at the water bowl





Another car, another black dog

the universe has fractured

I can hear the radio signal of 

'my life that should be' 

as if it were a patient 

only a wafer thin hospital curtain away 

I am waking up

with you 

pushing my palm up with your wet nose 

when I walk downstairs you bite my ankle  

and in the middle of the night your claws scratch the wood 

as you can't decide where to stettle

you never stop stalking the dinner table 

all tangled up between our legs

we shout 'get off, Isla', 'get down, Isla' and 'go away, Isla'

but nobody ever expects you to follow commands

your high-pitch bark 

is meant for rallying sheep and completely incongruous in a town house 

and it's always my job to tease out the tangles in your hair 

I'm the one you follow around

as if pulled by an invisible thread  

in this world you always find me

and never collapse at the bottom of the stairs

and I don't have to lift your hips, flaccid like snow

or remember that death smells like rust

another car, another black dog.