a fillet of my childhood
above the sawdust
they hung them silver hooked
whole sides of beef
man chops i called them
everyone laughed
some memories are lard
rich but unpalatable
the dry blood had a sadness
wrapped in greaseproof paper
the till rang it all up
those times
priceless now
a grain of truth
the breath of another pauses
atop of a sand dune’s flow
a grain of truth unsettled
in a new direction now
it’s all so unsettling
sharing an indecision
all alone until
a lone breath
of another intones
this way not that
now
who would have thought that …
a cuckoo thought
the cuckoo’s call
is a false heart
inside a true heart
the call out of an orphan
in that unjust moment
tomorrow is decided
in yesterday’s deceit
canes canes canes
all those tall canes
along the road of winter’s holiday
where once the snow relied upon them
to steer the plough
now see how they flash past on the black road
that kisses the mountain tops
making passes at girls in sunglasses
canes canes canes
hold out your hands to
the draft of this thought
the arthritic librarian
the pain booked
on the top shelf of if only
reached by a ladder wrung of words
hobbled from the hands
that placed it there
the pagination
of an imagination
that could move you
to read what was written
up there
in an attempt to make it
all right again with god
while down here
the ladder’s gnarled feet
refuse to slide
some wards of wisdom
we called the gurney
the silver cloud
their final journey
twelve wards
a hospital canteen
yet the destination of the silver cloud
was always ward thirteen
the notice on the door said
by appointment only
the chapel of rest
the mortuary
a poem for Salem’s poem
the booming of whale song
hooves across the savanna
the screech of a raptor
a breath at sunset
moonsong above
the crackle of a camp fire
the yes of locked eyes
yes
some words reverberate
homeless in the tome of the ear
restless as the background radiation
across the universe of humanity they roam
awakening in every hearer
a deep longing
for we are all lost
in the cacophony of being
dancing like butterflies
their beauty is mesmerising
eternal in their transience
they boom
