I step out of the house and make eye contact with an ice-clouded sun. I blink first.
The supermarket security guy
The supermarket security guy smokes a sneaky cigarillo, his sweater tucked into his belt. A pile of school kids tumble out of the shop, flushed, clutching crisps and bottles. They see the security guy and sober, walking a little too quickly, stiff-leggedly, around the corner. Passersby imagine the sound of running feet. The security guy hears his name being called from inside the supermarket, stubs out his cigarillo and goes back in. The world breathes and calms.
It rained and then the sun
It rained and then the sun
came out. There should have been
a rainbow but
there was not one to be seen.
The petrol on the puddle in the road
would have to do.
Kilcol scooped up the water
and held it in his cupped palm.
His hand shook lightly,
raising gentle waves that flashed
the blue-brown rainbow sheen.
The sun disappeared. Kilcol, bored,
dropped the water and wiped his hand.
The rainbow smeared across the pavement
for a while. Nobody noticed it.
More rain came. No sun.
Stories
I have become the stories that my parents told each other, nervous, excited, looking at the sky.
I am the stories that friends have woven and imagined, each new beginning another tale.
One day, one day, I will be the stories that my children more or less remember or in their own ages tell their own.
I was, will be, and am those stories.
the first snow for twenty six years
unstepped snow on beach
summer shade trees bone fingers
we walk down alone
Starting a poem and getting distracted
castle gun bangs one
pigeons lift, gulls unconcerned
gulls. not seagulls. gulls
Fitness in the park
The fitness group are in the park again, damp and muddy and pink. Not all of them look as if they want to get down and dirty and give him ten. It is freezing. A dog hunches nearby. Tabards and tempers are fraying.
Jay tried cycling on ice
Jay tried cycling on ice and walking on windy cliff tops. Kay tried swinging from an oak branch and jumping over rivers. Then, and only then, they thought they would chance spending their lives together.
Poems tell the truth
Poems tell the truth
Like cherry blossom falling
On cold Spring mornings
Five syllables
Five syllables. Five.
Seven syllables. Seven.
Five syllables. Five.
simonsalento 