TO BE LOW

It's so easy to be low

And stay low

The quiet so quiet

No thought and feel - no

Just wait, weighting

Down time, let it move slow

It's so easy to be low

OLD RAIN

The sun stuck in its cloud sack
Can do nothing for us riverfolk
We make our small adjustments
Armor of plastic, black sheeting
Glistening onyx in the mizzle
The holey boot wishes it wasn't
And squelches its little misery
Only the crowd of crows seem happy
Fizzing in their old dark
For a short while, the beauty of snow
Then for longer, long arrows of rain
Driven into the street's bursting belly
That scatter everything that floats
Me included,
Sodden paper on a Thames sea

BROTHER GOLEM

Low in globs of mud, 
eye, ear of Earth 
I sculpt a portrait: 
my brother’s head

Uncanny golem:
the strong cheeks, the pebble nose
even, maybe, those cute dimples
fired in July’s kiln
the mud cooks and is rock 

I call Mumma and she looks, 
laughing at the lifelike 


When the birds broke  
from the bushes and la-la-lelled 
the sun from the sky, 
they brought rain 
a pummeling dark 
with a jealous streak 

That bullied the cherub
broke the bowl of mouth 
flattened his forehead 
swallowed his nose stone 
caved in the eyes’ roundness 

I call Mumma and she looks, 
shrugs, “It’s all just mud to me”

FINAL THOUGHTS

In the perfume fog
She lay, looking
Good and upwards.
No longer frail,
A hard object
Why not a table?
Chiselled, painted blue

A look of sanctimony
On pursed, red lips
I don’t remember
Seeing in life
A preparation
For the underground

A carnation between her hands
Light repose
I wish she’d wink, say:
‘Soon I shall be young again’

EDITH'S LOT

As we reached
the red mountain
spluttering, hacking
mouths of ash
I thought I heard
my daughter's voice
but I did not turn

As we climbed
the red mountain
I thought I saw
my daughter's shadow
in the fires of the city
hanging heavy as a wave
to break upon my back
so I could not help
but turn

and look
and yes, I broke
down as a great wave
spluttering, hacking
my eyes and mouth
filled with salt