Wednesday, April 23, 2008

March: fragments 53 - 58

the tears return
I sing your song
grief is strong
throughout my back

tis your loving arms
I lack
can I take you back.
it would be hard
& possibly worse
with your alcoholic curse

which takes a stronger hold
now you’re no longer bold
in your decisions

p’rhaps I underestimate
your ability to climb out
of your hole
in the meantime I could go
to the south pole

fervent ferment
fixation factionate
frustration favours
friendship farce
freedom friendly
fashion fortuitous
fizzer fickle
fear fornicate

I’d act beyond my own behaviour
that month in the country turned to four
with the company of stick insects & bees
no clothing upon my lightly freckled skin
sin less actual, more in memory
of twining limbs and amla scented hair
no moon to take me there
when cappuccino froth mustaches my upper lip
my inclination to dream & fantasize
creates a story beyond the real event
who was he anyway some robin hood?
or scarlet pimpernel? to hell with it
his words have tumbled into a novel
fast & furious as I can set them down

Small boats on Gibara float serene
belying tumultuous political change
from capitalist dictator to communist
man the same in different guises
and poverty reigns supreme
Beauty in both sky and sea underscore
despair, sickness and loss of hope
yet a man might cut the rope to take
his friends to freedom drifting on tides
through shark infestations and disease
One remaining finds freedom in a queue
waiting for a loaf of bread, a slice of meat
and dancing in the street before curfew
then bowing to kiss the soil of her home

if marriage is the culmination of a dream
seeded in childhood
what was the dream for the unmarried?

a film star? an actress? some kind of fame?
no thoughts of husbands but lovers occasionally?

but what of old age? is this a semi-retirement?
obscurity? a garden?
or a collection of small dogs?

58 dance beneath a diamond sky
with one hand waving free
silhouetted by the sea.......

sea water fading light
& tears
a pain in my left shoulder
eased by money
not love
it gives me freedom from
freedom towards
a journey
a CD
house renovations
(a sign of real despair)
a move to
a move away
I zigzag
then find my centre
in a poem of politics
not love gone
becoming forgotten