In cars, I'm him.
I make the shapes he makes –
one-handing the steering wheel
as if grasping some mane,
I cup the gear stick bulb
like it's a brandy bowl
and coast to junctions
scared as sharks to stop,
though on open road
I’ll box in better cars than mine,
a sudden stickler for the limit
I slap down and squeeze your knee
celebrating damming flow,
Saturday 9th February 2013 9:39 am
One time it was gourds
that surfaced like Montgolfier submarines
in her pea and spud patch.
Bright lumps and dumplings,
they were too-much as fondant, or nougat.
Too good to be true.
Hollow to knock on, as if containing corridors,
when they toughened
into chilly cocks and succulent truncheons
she cupped them in turn and twisted
Saturday 3rd March 2012 7:18 pm
Thanks. I've got another poem from my collection, Welcome back to the Country, published by Seren.
This is about relationships, UFOs and comeuppance!
The (very) end
Now, if a fabulous UFO
broad as a postcode
dropped from the clouds and hovered
so tower block and office block aerials
tickled the anti-clockwise rotation of its gun-metal underside,
Monday 6th February 2012 7:03 pm