Poem (an old one - warning language etc)

Front steps of West Street 1975.

Evening, satin hue, soft as feathers

on a Muscovy duck’s back, firm beneath

the fingers; set like the keys of a piano -

their musical intent ready for flight.

The stars fell like crisp leaves into my thoughts,

became words - I told the truth, shattered

the friendship. It had been flickering anyway,

a Passover candle in an old, cold church.

I opened the refrigerator door, let the light show

the cold meat wrapped in teenage fear

waiting for your hand to tear aside the plastic, thump

life into the pause before first time sex..

Sometimes a cigarette desires to be placed next to the skin.

The pain and recognition between substances

that should never meet and do far too often

for anyone’s good - none of us get all that we want

or need.

Cars raced in the distance - the local pizza parlour

did a wonderful business catering to the empty homelands

and muddied waters otherwise known as stomachs. We sat

on concrete steps – I knew my mother was not asleep

her hot feet grown into maternal alarm clock.

She prowled my nighttimes - a panther padding down hallway

and kitchen, switching on lights at the worst possible moment –

her eyes wide as scenes shattered motherly expectation

and a catholic blanket that tried to cover everything.

I leant close and inhaled your dismissal; the mood

clung to the curls of red hair that shimmered like a sheet

in the faint light from the street, covered your neck

except for the exposure of the thin bone of shoulder.

My right hand slipped inside your red shirt

and felt your small breast and nipple. You turned

aside, removed the offender, stood -

the taxi, a  city comet, arrived, blew

the horn to ruin everyone’s night.

Your smile at that moment hurt

worse than a sledgehammer to the big toe.

As the taxi light sailed into the future I leant

all my weight upon the wire gate; hoped

the old hinges would burst to match the profusion

of blood that leaked inside my chest.

Mother turned the outside light on. I heard the crinkle

of the venetian blinds, left the moment lying there

like a car-hit cat. Went to bed to dream, knowing

everything would wait until the morning –

everything

except you.