Sport 33: Spring 2005
Poem in Four Parts
Poem in Four Parts
i. school
She's in a lift, falling through the centre
of her building, slowly.
Her grandmother saying
'No, darling. Dresses are yellow. Coats, blue.'
ii. underzcover
Ask anyone: the fingers bear terrifying marks
you can't remove by touching the tips
to the stove. We knew this as kids,
back when we were masters of disguise.
In winter, wearing gloves, we were burglars,
holding cigarettes to our lips like we had been captured.
Interrogated, we knew how to lie.
'I don't know where I've been. I can't remember
who we were with.' Crying out sometimes
'Whose hand is that?'
iii. the difference between calm and calmly
It is too cold at home.
My things sit there, dumb.
I stand in the gallery humming
and the walls say a faint boy uncurled strangely, his fists
unclenched belatedly, his tongue untangled respectably
iv. answer me
Her fingers are pointy. They snatch packets of nori,
pickled ginger, prawn crackers. She is adrift
in Chan's, a sharp little ship. 'Grandmother,
shall I make tea?' She turns her whole body
to find me. 'He put it in the bath.
In the bath, a cold wet fish.'