Sunday, 24 April 2016

The 'How well do you know someone?' poem

I like to write poems about imagined relationships, I suppose I recognise now that it's from the storytelling side of my character. This one, as I recall, came from a writing challenge set in the Dunbar Writers group. It was written in 2004, and published in Sushi & Chips (Diehard 2006).


Foundations

In an untended day
she looks for dust in his bookcase,
finds a shelf of sci-fi long past its read-by.

Idly, an old Asimov reveals
a scrawly bookmark, a letter
in a hand she does not own.

She hesitates; doubts and rights
and wrongs conflict, and are not
resolved, but fingers stretch,

and sweaty curious hands
unfold and smooth
the wrinkled paper.

Some words are blurred
and waterworn, but darling,
desperate and love are clear.

Downstairs his dog barks
at her row of flying ducks
where he wanted nuns –

his brother has them -  worse -
gnomes who moon all night
in his concrete garden.

Derek might have a desperate darling
but not her John, whose vows
she thought a deep and unacknowledged

sacrament, a layer of himself
rigid as limestone, a core value.
But now she has a key

without a lock, without a door,
an unsuspected room
in a house she thought she knew.

She folds the letter, puts it back,
leaves the cobwebs hanging
and the window unwashed.



Copyright  © Colin Will, 2006, 2016



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