Your nails dig deep into my hands
We are scared, but trusting, shiver
All is for the best and all will be well
Sirens call the people
The lights of the aurora fade in the sun
and then a sudden darkness
The stone is pushed with silent force
Dirt, torn fingers, scarring
The light again, the screams, the silence
Nobody breathes. No-one says the word.
Good Friday I eat passion fruit.
Seeds crack
between my teeth
and I swallow sweet.
Hope, hope again
above despair.
My kitchen window looks onto the back of a sheltered accommodation block. Cats prowl on the grass below. In the morning, in spring and summer mornings, in clear spring and summer mornings, the sun shines onto the red-brick walls and bounces back to light my kitchen.
This morning I waved to the old man whose name I don’t know and he waved back. Today the reflected light shone out from his eyes. He smiled and pulled the curtains shut again.
– It was a joke. I didn’t
Well, it wasn’t very funny.
– No, I can see that
Not funny at all.
– But I didn’t
I don’t see how you can think it was funny.
– I thought it
Am I laughing, Danny? Am I laughing?
– No, no you’re
You’re an idiot.
– Yes I
We’re getting off now. Come on.
– I can’t
Don’t start me off again. Why not?
– My hands are still glued to the seat.
My favourite holiday destination is the island of Bivolio. I spend my days in the shade near the sea, hard muscles soft, thoughts wandering away and slowly fading.
When I first went there, I asked people how they said ‘day dreaming’ in their language. They looked at me and laughed and gently corrected me – day dreaming? I was talking about dreaming and that happens in the day. Night dreams are different. Dreams, the ones that you rest into in the day, bring you possibilities for the future, night dreams solve the problems of the past.
“Dream on it,” they say, “and the answers will be there.”
“They have always been there,” some continue, ” but you have tried too hard, you have thought too hard. Dream on it.”
“Golden dreams” they wish me. The sweetest golden dreams.
To lie beside me you lied.
I lay. You lay beside me.
Tut mir leid, Schãtzli, you said.
Es tut mir leid.
A kiss on the cheek from my now ex-best friend.
A kiss on the lips from my now ex-lover.
A kiss in the air from an innocent bystander.
A kiss on my fingertips as I wave them goodbye.
gave blood today
saved a life today
gave blood today
saved a life today
watched the flowing through the plastic
watched the darkness of my heart blood
watched the ceiling fan slow turning
watched the darkness of my heart blood
gave blood today
saved a life today
gave blood today
saved a life today
thought of how many teaspoons needed
thought of other reasons bleeding
thought of walking home soon after
thought of other reasons bleeding
lucky to be giving
lucky I’m not needing
lucky to be giving
lucky I’m not needing
gave blood today
saved a life today
gave blood today
saved a life today
School kids in cadets’ uniforms. What are their parents thinking? Look at me. No, don’t.
A generic frown.
Frown.
Frown.
A smile let loose like a balloon in the sky.
Headphones, headphones, earbuds. Doesn’t matter who’s inside.
Tourist. Surely?
Late for work. The glance back says it was the train’s fault.
Walking fast, head down over phone or map. Watch out for the Watchtower stand.
Armed police. First for a while.
People look serious.
Soles worn down to nothing. How don’t your knees buckle and fall?
You should be at school.
And you.
Oh, I see.
I’ll just close my eyes.
That cyclist hasn’t thought through the whole flowers-in-the-backpack situation. Pedestrians are showered with petals like confetti. Some smile and hold hands more tightly, others brush petals from their faces. Perhaps tears. The cyclist speeds on. At his destination, perhaps a red-brick block near the bypass, disappointment waits with its usual patience.
simonsalento 