Monday, 10 January 2022

Summer for the New Year

I wrote a little thing on New Year’s Eve.

And 10 days in, it doesn’t seem massively off. So, thought I’d share it.

- - -

The Bloodline of Wolves


loss begets calm begets

inadvertent scream down the phone


sour as the mirage honey of the promised land

begets hope

begets two sons

stagnancy, the complacent

his brother [ cw: ]

begets pinprick bruises on my


they didn’t have a word for it in the line-up

in the language

in the alphabets

even the dust mites on the windowsills of the town-church-fire-school-rehearsal halls

scattered away to make their own babies


in the furious excitation of the uncategorised

begets unsanctioned

begets unlawful

begets unrestrained

I watch them dance around for ages

in patterns, passing titles back and forth

darting like fireflies like

so beautiful and the myth

the legend the Book of What Children Imagine

says that if you puncture one, its luminous poison will kill you

So, I sit on the porch

in the warm summer air, crickets (or was it locusts or frogs or just voices in stones)

singing beautiful songs  of heat lighting

I sip the tonic water left over from you

Boxes in the hall

Your bottle of grenadine gathering holy dust

on the shelf

land of promises

for no one to find

Let the house crumble, I’ve decided

People like me,

we beget enough of our own ghosts

but they have teeth,

far too unruly to ever join the parade