Wrap It Up

 

I wear the snake

around my head

like a turban.

 

It tucks in well

it stays in place.

Mostly it behaves.

 

I prefer it coiled -

please don’t slither

leading thoughts out of bounds,

brain out of kilter.

 

Bound around my head

the snake roams as it will.

Inside

all is still.


 

 

And Wrap It Up, Again

 

The voice of my memory

noodle-like

unravels on the polished floor

and nips at my ankles.

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Father’s Life in Mine

 

                             

1

 

 

Some say

you were killed

by the mad woman

you made your second wife.

 

I always knew

ever the fighter pilot

you were on a self-destruct mission

 

Flying your jet

laden with bombs

some shop-bought, some homemade:

whisky, tobacco,

the knowledge your mother never loved you.

 

The vague verdict:

death from burns

 

Heat seared away your skin

yet when I laid my palm on your forehead

to say goodbye

you were colder

than the icebox

I found you in.

 

 


2

 

 

Some say

you had more than

your fair share

of brains.

 

Does that explain

your life of follies?

 

Wouldn’t we all

like to pursue an errant ship

and disappear

into a free horizon

 

doing what we do

and leaving the rest

to do what they do

 

leaving the rest

children, spouse, parents

on their voyage to reality

what are they but nagging voices

wanting you to give up the revelry?

 

Would a person with a fair share

of brains realise

freedom is not a synonym for happiness

freedom does not rid us

of a plague bedevilling the soul

 

After your body had been tossed

to the flames

once, then once again,

I searched

the edge of your blanket

the fold of your sheet

under your pillow

for the shred of intellect

which surely

must have been left behind.    

                 

3

 

 

At the funeral

your brother found time

for a joke

on the ride to the crematorium.

 

‘Everyone in this family pops

when they hit sixty’

he said.

‘His last fun ride’, he said

glancing at the stretcher

where you lay by my feet.

 

My eyes remained

red rimmed,

blurry.

 

My lips failed to shape the weakest smile.

 

If what he said was true

I was glad

he could be humorous

in the face of his impending mortality.

 

He is only three years younger than you.

 

 

 

4

 

                       

In a rare phone call

you asked me

what I was doing with my life

 

Bringing up a child

An answer that displeased

Don’t waste your abilities

you snapped

 

Disdaining 

what I took to be

a career worthier than most.    

Well, what would you know.

 

Yet, we do listen to our parents.

Late.

 

Now I make moves as you hoped

scribbling on every scrap of paper 

a story

to keep our dialogue going

 

‘My Father’s Life in Mine.’

Does your ghost read between the lines?

 

5

 

 

There was a time before

when you were

a young poet 

a dreamy philosopher

a champion crossword-solver

 

A maverick pilot

an exceptional sailor

a weekend tender of plants.

 

When not at war-games 

your home front duties were 

blowing up birthday balloons

and telling irreverent jokes.

 

There was a time before

when you were

a typical father trotting out

set phrases – your advice for life

 

‘Fight your own battles’

‘Pay your own way’

and more in that vein.

                              

Now I take my own counsel

live a life of opposites

and opposite to yours

 

willing the joys of duty

to multiply

 

willing figs to grow

on weathered branches.

 

 

                 

6

 

 

My brother says

we may yet

prove to be

more like you

than we know

 

we may yet

fall off the curve of the horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Shine on

 

Hello nose job

pink cardigan

failed actress

smile uncertain

even for an old friend 

 

Do you remember

your mother

how luminous she was

 

That was before she jumped

from the roof garden

the year you were seven

 

She chose your name

sparkle sparkle

 

Go on

Put on the shine

Show us the stuff you’re made of.

 


 

 

 

 

 

One a penny, two a penny

 

 

Watch this skin

I’m in.

 

I could shuck it off.

 

Present it to a young boy

to surf in.

 

I could scrawl ‘Ripcurl’ on it.

 

Watch as I wear

my other skin

 

the one that doesn’t swim

but is carried around in the bottomless changing bag.

 

Both skins are rudders

guiding those with eyes

 

Whichever box you put me in

 

one skin approves

 

the other defies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Goes in waves

They come and go in waves

Our hauteur

our utter dependency.

 

A mirage is worth looking at

if one is not dying of thirst.