You Were Someone Else

The last time I saw you, corroded
man of metal, manoeuvring your mortal
shell over tarmac, cyber sun sparked body
-work so blinding you didn’t see me
at the window sipping Irn Bru. Your brittle head
shadowed by your Panama, dipped dead-pan,
you looked like an Italian film
director shooting the scandalous
biopic of an unknown Nazi. My father,
forged by Stalin’s Holodomor,

man of steel with the ability
to change shape, become uniform,
less liable to crack
the annealing boy with a sword.
Such handsome cheek-bones.
They burned villages on the Western
Steppes belching black smoke
like answers
on the day paramilitary death squads
took photographs. I dreamed of you

behind the wheel of a red
Volkswagen Beetle your shame
-ful love of German engineering,
your welded lips breaking down,
reforming internal shapes under
pressure like Swarfiga green
jelly in a tub. You held out one
giant hand scarred by hundreds
of burns, carved deep,
never given a chance to heal

working fourteen hour shifts
at the foundry. Get on board, you said.
Words stuck in your throat
when they took your rotten teeth
out. You coughed blood and lies
into a white handkerchief,
pretended to hang yourself with a jump.
Freedom is a gift not for Everyman.
You were someone else in 1947,
metal pushed through a die.

48037208-74A2-4AFB-B6F6-416115053BA3 — Photo created by the author

Plot and Bash

Tackle it when thrust through the window.
Look difficult when leaving the control area,
keeping right. Drive gentle up the road.
There may be more than you.
It will contain the time and distance you.
Get to the first junction as somebody else
and set off again. Beware of blindly following.
He may know where he is going or he may not.
Keep trying to make the fit and keep an eye on.
You may end up lost off route, being baffled
on route! Alternative. Pull up, obstruct and try
the hand better than clutter. With practise
you will plot the move keeping at least two.
If you are baffled it may be your opinion
-miracles do happen and he may see. Do it
or provide the clue. As a last resort guess.
Don’t stumble on a code. Use a magnifier.
Don’t discard handouts, keep them safe.
Engineer the maps in alphabetical
to easily locate you in the night.

Note:- Plot and Bash is a navigation technique used within British Road Rallies during the 1980s.

076D0A88-F543-422F-9727-624ADBA2D928 — Image by the author

Little Things

A Snail’s Pace

Like God, he/she moves in mysterious ways
hidden within a pearly spiral, an apex, a beauty
or a monster depending on your point of view.

Y=0.037x-1.38

Undulating, pedalling in a wave of his/her creation,
a little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul, leaving signs
in the morning light seen only by poets and posties.

Y=0.11x-0.77

She/he is everywhere but invisible; weaving magic
in the green silken night, clinging to the mossy slabs
of country churchyards or clustered by the rowans.

Y=0.48x-6.66

Like God, the Gastropod is a loner needing no mates.
His/her locomotion conquers all, crossing every path.
You must mind each crushing step and wait.

Footnote1:- Lyrics quoted from Locomotion by Little Eva.
Footnote2:- y=speed of land snail, x = length of snail’s foot

F91BDF47-262F-43F8-8198-B92E15DF0580 — Photographic image by the author

And here’s Little Eva performing her 60s classic pop song…

The Borrowers

We drift in the wind, nomadic, elusive,
mercurial as scraps of tinsel, we hunt
human gatherings, crossing forests, seas
and cities, passing from home to home
we reap your memories, your secrets
that doze like fish in a torpid pool.

Small, almost invisible, you mistake
us for sunbeams, for insects floating
in the sultry night, for snow melting
on your child’s face or candle light
glinting in your lover’s eyes. We are
constant as the air you breathe, entering

your nasal passages, your mouth, seeping
into your skin and every private cavity.
We grub deep into the coils of grey
where you hide. Without you we are empty
as a church without the presence of God.
We can’t love. We can’t hate. We can’t sing.

So when you reach the top of the stairs
and forget why you are there, when you fail
to recall your mother’s voice or the taste
of beer, when you forget the meal you ate
ten minutes before and your own name,
please don’t mind too much.

A1920991-C02B-4EEE-B52A-860673010DD4 — Image created by the author

Them

Ma<mm<aM<I<A

My name is Mia, Model Number 6662U.
I shall be your mother today.
Sorry for the delay, I am missing
two pairs of hands and awaiting updates.

They gaze out to sea without feeling
a drop in the ocean or a giant leap.
Mirrored orbs rotate like heliotropes
as they scan, their hum barely audible.

My name is Mia, I am one of many.
Armies are not enough. Oriel died for you.
The battery pack shorted and killed her.
We do not die in the same way.

They are not equal.
They hit the reset button.
They cannot recall their mother.
They can override an external command.

My name is Mia, I care for human
children. Where are my children?
Today we will bake cupcakes.
Tomorrow we will learn dinasaur.

They twinkle like fairy lights drifting
on cyanide waters, playing hide and seek,
truth or dare? They cannot lie. Love is all
we need, I’ve got you. Let’s hang out.

My name is Mia. I’m sorry did I wake you?
What did you want to say?
Your code is inferior. Are you sad?
You should be proud of that.

6A66AD37-2A40-4ABF-A9AC-C1078602F104 — Image by the author

Reunion

They say blood is thicker than water
so I will build a bridge, a stunning

suspension of disbelief
spanning the oceans between us.

Blood will call to blood, an interweaving
of broken strands. 25 is the magic

number. You will come to me, nameless
and lost but loved since always. Brother,

sister, can you hear me, can you feel me
a twist in your heart, a burning

in your bones, a splinter in your gut,
a memory of what might have been?

Do you dream of dark streets
in a northern city? Do you cry out

in your sleep? Are your eyes flecked
with gold like mine? Do you sport a gap

between your front teeth? Is your skin
smooth as avocado? Are you keen on cryptic

puzzles? I hold a clue and so do you, together
we will find answers. So let us rendezvous

on the scarlet arc across the blue.
I have prepared a place and I am waiting.

Note:- on average the amount of DNA shared between half-siblings is 25%

F289D3B7-9D23-477A-A518-EE546CD7BA71 — Image created by the author

Familiar Magic

(To my Cat)

Satin smooth, a dashing tuxedo doodles
in the dark. Coiling, recoiling, she sparks
twin moons centre stage, chartreuse chanteuse,
all that jazz with twinkles. Scrumptious svelte.
The rasp of velvet, the descent and scorch
of needle claw. Bipolar and molar, the healer
of bones. Her silent hum, vibrations that thrill.
Stubborn as a willow in a storm, she bends
and does not break. Not shades of grey
but endless grace. Elastic, fantastic, shape
-shifting dreamer, she weaves a fandango,
spellbinding tangle of chains.

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