A last whisper, last touch, as clear eyes close;
soft story dreams leading.
Later, the tingle below the skin wakes the morning and limbs
and then, in the sunrise, the words.
love
She is gone
She is gone.
All that remains the kingfisher colourflash.
And the song of the swan in the silence.
Love beauty beware
No rose without a thorn
No blood-red petals without the power to rip.
Weak flowers wave pale against a cotton sky
but crimson tearing is the heart.
As she walked slowly out of the doctor’s room
As she walked slowly out of the doctor’s room, a shadow shaded across her face. It matched the patch in her chest.
She did not want to tell them the news, share the picture buried deep in her bag. Deep in her heart she knew that she should but she was afraid that their hearts would break. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would.
For today she would keep her silence, and smile, and nod, and cough quietly into a handkerchief. For today, today, they did not need to know.
But they knew. Of course they knew. They knew it sharply deep inside of them, it cut them sharp and deep inside of them, they felt the broken glass in her breathing in their hearts.
But for today she would not tell them.
It’s all about Euan
Euan was Scottish and Mimi was French. When they got together their friends called it a clear case of bilateral nominative determinism.
At first they always agreed in first person – Euan said ‘aye’ and Mimi said ‘oui’.
But then, then.
“It’s all about Euan, isn’t it?”
“Oh, very funny. Mimi Mimi Mimi, that’s all I hear.”
They were a contrapuntal couple until the centripetal became centrifugal. Euan said ‘aye’ and really meant it: Mimi said ‘oui’ but it never was again.
Jen biroed a map
Jen biroed a map on the back of Magda’s hand and walked away smiling. Magda stayed sitting in the park, hand in her jacket hidden from the rain. Then she thought twice and licked the ink away. Her hand was red from rubbing but now her eyes were dry.
Awake
My eyes saw you; my heart did not. I was asleep.
At the end of the heart’s night the sun came up and you were there.
Thank you.
You need not call me ‘Miss’
Thomas always called her ‘Miss’ and every day Sandra wondered why. She had told him once, from behind a half-smile, that he could use her name. ‘Miss’ was just too great a formality. She longed for him one day to call her ‘Sandra, my darling’.
Thomas could not say her name: his voice might crack and break. ‘Miss’ told how much he missed her when she was not there. One day, one day, he would call her ‘Sandra, my darling’.
Time passed but still warm words did not. The air drew frost when Thomas breathed ‘Miss’ and slowly, slowly, the ice between them grew. Seasons passed but words were always winter.
Then she was gone; and then she was back. And now her name was ‘Madam’.
Rosanna and Carlino: Scene 1 – in the classroom
Rosanna is a kindergarten English teacher in Italy. There are nine or ten children in the room, all doing different things until she calls them to her. She is sitting on a low chair and has a colourful book on her knees.
Rosanna: Children, come, come. Bambini, venite.
The children gather round and after some pushing and scuffling all sit cross-legged around her.
Rosanna: Look! Look! Who is? Who is? Guardate? Chi è? Sapete chi è?
Children: Shouts of ‘Sì’.
Rosanna: It’s the wolf! Look, it’s the wolf! Sì, sì, è il lupo. See his eyes! What big eyes! What black eyes! Che occhi grandi, no? Avete visto che occhi? Carlino had such eyes. Such deep black eyes. He looked at me and I was lost. I forgot he was the wolf. Che occhi….
The children look at one another as Rosanna’s voice tails away. She touches her eye with the tip of a finger. FADE
(A very very short) Love song
God made the look in your eyes, the touch of your fingers;
then everything else in the world.
simonsalento 