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Playing The Fool


Then attachment
Even knowing better now
I remember it well




Some shocks thunderbolts
Hurled across the living room
“That’s it, I’m leaving”

Some are more subtle
Tiny changes day by day
Not even noticed

An old photograph
Depicts a startling stranger
We no longer are



A piece of quartz!
What an excellent present
To give
To our first child!

… I threw it in a flowerbed
The gardener will come and turn it under …



Damaged to the core
Perhaps the best we can do
Not damage others

Faux Pas


I can still recall her words as she dressed
“I’m sure I had something else when I came”
Too preoccupied with flight
To notice the double entendre



To learn so young the art of survival
Assist in keeping family secrets safe
Paper over the crumbling brickwork
Tissue the next seismic shock shreds

Hope and Despair – Comfort and Rejection
Siamese twins turned Indian givers
Left fearful now of any scrap of warmth
Left hating herself the final betrayal

A secret journal the one thing at least
She has some chance to keep sacred
A lifeline through these shameful years
Now become her free psychotherapy

Stabs at writing, at painting with words
“Painting by numbers about my limit”
Moans, “Can’t even keep to the lines”
“So best abandon this clumsy sketch”

Left adrift in the throes of thrashing chaos
A tearful maelstrom, roaring in the silence
The sun and moon, heaven itself devoured
And the earth winding down into silence

Wary of a lurking nervous breakthrough
Judged best left incomplete, this picture
So let the reader allocate the meaning
When satisfied click “Save Changes”


An earlier version of this, entitled “The Lost Sock” was posted in March 2012. I have removed it.

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