THREE POEMS



It

even with yellow guinness bellies,
with sleep not coming easy
in the tangerine bedclothes,
even with eyes like unstoppable trains
mixed with yellow bellies,
                hands
finger knots, junctions intederminable
ways to hold on in the night.
                 together
we count one sheep. Push him
somewhere into the middle of night
where we unfold our tongues.

Later I watch the words climbing into
the nape of your neck comfortably;
                 Together, still is
an awkward way of fitting two people
into one word, one bed until morning or past that

Cue the birds' singing.

--------------------------

Marjory

As it was I didn't know auntie Marjory well
We only talked once or twice.

She strolled through Marakesh in a straw hat,
she been to Colombia and Russia and back
had the pipe tobacco
tasted the eggs of sturgeon.

Then someone told me how she'd once robbed banks;

As a result it was said that
in the night, she grew more and more petrified that they
             Who?
They were coming to get her;
To take her to Vienna, with reference to the banks.

The grey woman clutched her blankets,
Stared bulb eyed at the door like they were coming.

But one night she seized up with fear completely,
             she died.
I wouldn't have thought it.
Nobody would have thought it but she did.

It turns out she never left Bedfordshire;
Her bungalow, her garden, or the safety of the precinct.

--------------------------

Holes

There are holes that expect things
a foot fits in a sock
an arm runs through a sleave
a head fits in a cap

and

There are holes that expect things
like graves

then

There are holes that do not expect
To be filled with persons


.

Ellen de Vries

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