page 46

Of Christmas and Storms

To enter the spirit of Christmas
pluck your own rooster, wobble
while the jelly sets, soak up
some alcohol like
a piece of dried fruit.

To lose the fear of storms
put up trusses, give garlic
to sailors to hang in their ships,
try to slice yourself thinly between
droplets of water and the sunlight—
become a rainbow.

If you think then
that you understand a
whole spectrum of things,
that morning will find you
with a crowing and truly
festive heart

you may be right.

page 47

Breakdown

Broken down and left
behind in the margin of
a motorway, he walks the slim walk
in search of a phone, head down
ignoring the fast glances from
faultless cars he concentrates
on his feet, his strip of
road shaking and warm,
an armadillo without a shell.

He fears none of his friends
can tow him back, knows
it will take an organised stranger.

page 48

Piano

You the orthodontist
with strong fingers at
my resilient mouth
tap one white tooth with
a fingernail. The
sound is denture-like;
the real sound doesn't
happen here.

Sharps and flats
will always be the notes
you had forgotten you knew,
harder to reach and read,
black as old fillings.

There are holes in the harmonies
because a few of the chorus are mute,
you push open their mouths but nothing happens,
are reminded again of those invisible strings.

The metronome is
there to help with tempo,
whatever you do don't
set it to your own heart beat.

Your touch is everything to me,
the vibrations go on and on…
Who is holding that pedal down?