On The Far Side Of The Earth


On the far side of the Earth
The moon is telling of our love
Stars are falling
Whorling and settling
A silver blanket glistens on the land
The tigers are crying
In each others jaws
On every moonlit limb birds
Rest feather to feather
The heavens catch their breath and you
You are here
In my arms


The Ghosts Of Victory


We walk together
Thru scenes of our shared past
That I have no understanding of
Or power to change
The cratered kitchen
The entrenched bedroom
The unrecognisable twisted limbs
What could I have done?
“You could have done nothing
You think you hold the power to change me?
You hold my hand
Nothing more”
She wears a red glove
“So you might stop crying now”

The Foxtrot


If they could see me now
White tie and tails
Dancing on a silver moonbeam
They’d know why I hung them out to dry
They’d all cry out
“Why, he sure showed us!
Cardboard cutouts at a cabaret
Polishing our shoes for nothing”
Here comes the spotlight!
Can you hear the violence?
They’re playing our song
And they can all go do the foxtrot

The Bonfire


And so we meet
One final time
To burn the last of our memories
To watch the ashes of trust
Take to the air
And fall like snow flakes
In somebody else’s yard

There will be no tender kiss
No parting tears
We will not recognise each other
For all the armour
And the grotesque masks
As we seize our last chance
To push each other into the fire

The Runaway


With her feet on the wrong way round, she ran away rather well. She chased her heart down the wrong paths, and ran into trouble before she could see it. Corrective shoes did not help. They only slowed her down, so that the sharp pains of her daily collisions became dull ache of slow constant abrasion. But she polished those shoes every day, so shiny she could see her face in them. Such a sad face. So sad she couldn’t bear to see it. So she took the shoes off, and she walked barefoot, and her toes found their way more carefully.

Emily Sticks


Why had she been given bundles of twigs instead of hands? She could do nothing with them, for fear of splinters. Why had she been banished so early in life?
Emily felt she would always be stranded on the cusp of adulthood. She somehow knew she would never grow old, but this was no consolation. To never be able to touch another, to embrace someone. To snag them, and tear them, that was all.
She never felt complete. Not in her empty arms. Not in her unconscious soul. Above all, she wanted her mistress to take her back, to embrace her and envelop her and cry for her. She wanted to see herself through her eyes and be loved.
Emily was always summoned by the sound of her mistress unsettled in her sleep. She would follow the soft erratic breathing in the darkness of the bedroom. Her mistress would start to mouth words. “No.” Her hands would push away at shadows. And louder, “No!” Her mistress thrashing her legs.
She would silently stand in the shadows by her bed, tearfully watching her in her throes. Those unconscious eyes staring in terror. “NO!”
It was painful to watch, but what could she do?  She could not touch her and wake her, for she knew she would again be banished. She could not offer comfort, only a hard, brittle prod.
One day, she knew not when, but she dearly hoped, her mistress would call her and welcome her and say sorry, and cry upon her sleeves, and her twigs would soften to delicate fingers, which she would run through her mistress’s hair.

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