Thursday, 14 January 2016

Gretel's Lament

Gretel's Lament.

I'm tired of trying to wear a different face the way cinderella's tired of trying to wear different slippers. I'm tired of putting on ashes too.

In a forest full of sleeping brambles, I've hidden all my monsters in the eyes of foxholes and the minds of dwarves.

On the moors where only silence scarpers with Cathy's ghost, I open my mouth and howl the winds of my anguish out.

But it catches in my hair and ends up laughing there as the sky matches my madness with lightning and consequences.

I'm tired of this kind of re-becoming - this falling backwards even as I try to run happily to the ever after and away.

So I've decided to transform pebbles back into breadcrumbs. Abandon myself over to the woods-life again.

Saturday, 9 January 2016

Winter: wish you were here?

Winter: wish you were here?

The postcard you send arrives here damply.
Its edges curl in, a forgotten fish breathing
the remoteness of you through the letterbox.

Outside the wind roars, and the rain roars.
Two ragged ghosts in their grieving,
soaking all thoughts back to the absence of you.

A woman with a wren's nest in her handbag
once told us that Venice was sinking. Like the
city was a mermaid, drowning its way back home.

Here, feeling the scrawl of your words begin
their yearly pull towards a drenching, I pause -
allow the weather its insistent anchoring

to the net of distance that separates us;
your happiness with another. This life, floundering.