Calum always put in an extra full stop. Or other punctuation so that his work was. Deliberately not perfect sometimes. He exaggerated.
Moments
Five sunflowers
five sunflowers in a lemon-yellow vase
cat tiger-striped on the rug in the sun
Sunday afternoon is easy
Heron
silent sprung stillness
until the inevitable strike
vain struggle soon over
dinosaur feather-disguised
we flourished
we flourished in the sun
harvesting one another’s flowers
and now we feed tomorrow’s fields
masks
some hide smiles
some hide eyes
many tiny invisible lies
your mask hides
your mask hides your smile
but still how I’m struck
to see your eyes laughing
anniversary
We have been together for longer than we haven’t.
Do you remember that day, that beer in the village,
that evening, that night?
Do you remember? I do.
And yes, life has changed,
life has definitely changed us,
life has of course green splintered and mended,
yes to all of those things, yes of course.
But still when I see you,
my eyes open or closed tight,
still when I see you I remember that evening,
the evening when the shadows were gone.
On a memorial stone
On a memorial stone I saw
‘She let us be ourselves’.
The ‘let’ had been black-inked over
and ‘helped’ written above it.
I wish I had known her.
Or known her better.
Who are those masked people?
The country’s colours. Saltire. Tartan.
Surgical. Bananas. Edinburgh Spartans.
Superhero. Butterflies. Suns and moons rising.
Everybody staying safe, everyone still trying.
nearly completely
nearly completely
is how you described your love
nearly but not quite
