Watched by the skeletons of clothes airers,
I mountaineer up the sofa to water the devil’s ivy.
Bee-hum of the dehumifier, all our hopes pinned
to a spoorless wall, weekly bleached bone.
The mop forlorn by the bathroom door,
a gaunt wizard of cleanliness.
My hands soften in the washing up water
like petals in a puddle after a rainstorm.
So peach soft. Allow me then my forest
of bookcases, and among them the tumeric armchair
glowing like the sun of its own
peculiar solar system. We are caught up
in its orbit like a queen captive in a hive.
But closer to the workers, yes, their daily toil
and blunder. What else to watch – the kaleidescope
of laundry through a tiny porthole.
Feel your hand back to mine. Not trembling.
The solid warmth of a wood stove in October,
bearing all the seasons through.
On borrowing my mother’s swimsuit – Suffolk, 2021
O warbler, calling from the soft
and sodden marsh, tell me it’s not true
that even newly blubbered I cannot fit
neat as a cherry pit in this
blue and yellow flowered suit
Once thin as the reeds of the beds I was
but the lockdown put paid to that
and now I snap lycra on stretchily
over swelling boobs and even more secretly
that strip of cloth that once covered her vulva
covers mine now
the slit of my becoming
and the slit of my being
fused by this nest of cloth
So I thought I’d try and update this old site and make something shiny and sparkly new as I am trying to find a publisher for my next pamphlet. First order of business is the excellent news that I have four poems in the new Spring 2020 issues of Poetry Wales. Thanks a million to Jonathan Edwards for choosing them. You can pre-order your copy here: https://poetrywales.co.uk/product-category/current-issue/
What else is new? Well since, 2015 which is when I think my last post was, quite a lot!! I’ve moved to Edinburgh, done a Masters in Screenwriting and started a job at University of Edinburgh. It was sad to leave Dubai but it was the right time. I’ll never forget the great times I had in the sandpit.
In memory of Dubai, here is my poem We Live In Water, which was published in the now-defunct Hinterland magazine:
We Live In Water
Dubai is merpeople
in neon fringed bikinis
no tails required
flitting between pool and plage
to finish in chromy towers
where we swallow as much
as we swim in…
Don’t tell me you don’t want
our poolside passionfruit vodka
don’t tell me you don’t want
our beaches that turn to nightclubs
our limitless champagne brunch
I won’t believe you
I never believed you
that’s why I came