the distance since our last fleeting touch
the time between our heartbeats quickening
the night that falls to cover smiles
the sun that surely will come up again
How to clean a window to a soul
To clear a window to a soul is not easy but
here is a way
First find the right soft duster
breathe softly on the cloth from the heart
and tentatively, watchfully, carefully
begin to polish away corrosion
The cloth can catch
and leave threads of itself
but with love and hope and perhaps thousands of tears
the rust on the soul window will clear
We have grown old
Invecchiati simu, frate.
Yes, you’re right. We have grown old apart
distant in distance and distant in time
but friendship is deeper than years.
We will always be brothers, brother;
our hands still hold the thin blade scars.
I see your face and you are your father
as he was when we were young
and ran and swam and threw stones at the sentries.
We will always be brothers, brother;
our heads still hold the baton scars.
And now we may be old my brother
and our bones
Stones land in water
Stones land in water
I see wild white fish jumping
Willows hide sad smiles
Portobello Beach Easter Monday
Smoke-like curtains of rain sweep across the Forth, stopping short of the sand. People frown across at Fife, exchange worried glances. Buggies are turned away from the wind. Men in kilts have their Marilyn moments. Chips catch sand. Ice cream drips onto woollen gloves. And then the rain arrives.
The story of the taxi
The story of the taxi that takes you where you need to be rather than where you want to be finally came true for Nathan. Finally. “The story is true, it’s true” he shouted. “Please let me in. Please.” Inside the house a light came in. He banged on the door again. “The story’s true!” The door opened. “Hello again Nathan. I thought you would never come.” Nathan turned and tried and tried to run away.
First published on www.paragraphplanet.com on 17 April 2017
I woke up
I woke up from the glue dream and got off the train. Up the emergency stairs to Holborn where the traffic had stopped. Why? Because Bobby had landed his helicopter in the middle of the street. Yes – Bobby, helicopter, Holborn. Again. The rotors blew years of diesel dust from the trees into my eyes. I squinted between my fingers and Bobby was waving to me. That did not surprise me though it should perhaps have done but the helicopter did. It was soft and hazy and billowed and waved, red and pink and spots and stars. Jump in, jump in, called a voice, a spinkly sparkly monkily voice. I jumped in and we flew upside down above the river towards the sea. My hair had grown and curled and flew behind me in ringlets. I closed my eyes and tried to wake up again.
Eating the lamb
They eat the lamb in memory. Bloodied and rare or crushed-almond sweet; both
are their worship. Chocolate eggs, a grinding of salt, lemon zested on the
grater. Rabbits; pictures of rabbits. Those things are theirs.
They shall never be accepted.
We eat the lamb in memory. Bloodied and rare or crushed-almond sweet; both
are our worship. Chocolate eggs, a grinding of salt, lemon zested on the
grater. Rabbits; pictures of rabbits. These things are ours.
They shall never be forgotten.
Rain falls
Rain falls on rivers
Fine stippling below the trees
Fish rise, do not bite
Your nails dig deep
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.