With each skinning she gave
I grew larger
(milk, and pancakes, glistening sweets)
padding myself
from the inside out
I tried not to question
why smoothing scraps of wood, in his shed
was more important than noticing
A path out of the darkness came with a boy –
and a girl – cooked for 9 months, their father
(Milk, and pancakes, glistening sweets)
pressed to breadcrumbs under my bulk –
I raised them into wholeness,
glazing them with spittle
(milk, and pancakes, glistening sweets)
still getting bigger
I’d have bent over backwards for trying,
but I could hardly make it up the stairs.
I realised, too late
how they struggled for air,
under my weighty gaze.
In the long afternoons,
when the sun melts the road into stickiness
I hear other people’s children playing
daring each other to knock at my door.
Lisa D'Onofrio
biscuit crumbs
the bed
between us
Lisa D'Onofrio
I had a good friend once
a friend once
but he kept following me around
following me around
like an echo
an echo
so
so
I told him to his face
lovely face
Why do you keep following my words
following my words
like an echo
an echo
Look, if this doesn't stop
doesn't stop
we will be friends no more
friends evermore
It didn't stop
stop
so
so
I began following him around
following me around
following him around
following me around
like an echo
an echo
echo
echo
echo
echo
O
O
O
O
O
O
O
Rupert Mallin
it was a week a
GO
that I broke
HER
Dalton tea p o
t
HAND
le
& I glued the p o
t
to
get
her
& now it is
as good as n e
w
as good as
Rupert Mallin
IT STOLE HER BREATH AWAY
STOLE HER WORDS AWAY
STOLE HER LETTERS
OPENED HER MOUTH
FILLED HER PEN
HIT HER KEYS
SHE FOLLOWED THE PEN WITH HER EYES
FOLLOWED THE WORDS IN HER MIND
BUT HER WORDS WERE NOT IN HER BOOK, HER NOTEBOOK OR ON
SCREEN
SHE COULDN'T HEAR THEM
COULDN'T MOUTH THEM
COULDN'T SCREAM
BUT IT WAS HER MOUTH
HER NAME IN THE PAPERS
SHE HEARD THEM TALKING ABOUT HER
THEY QUOTED HER DEMISE
SPOKE HER WORDS
SHAPED HER MOUTH
WHAT HAD THEY DONE TO HER MOUTH?
THE SCREEN WAS A SCREAM
HER EMPTINESS ON SCREEN
SHE FELT BLOOD RUN FROM HER IDEAS
FELT INK SQUEEZED FROM BETWEEN HER FINGERS
SHE WROTE INVISIBLY
SHE WROTE WITHOUT EFFECT
& THEY LOVED & ADMIRED HER
& SHE FILLED HER IDEAS WITH HER EMPTINESS
& SHE WAS SO, SO CONFIDENT
Rupert Mallin
SHE WAS SO–SO
SHE WAS WORSE THAN SO–SO
BUT SAID SHE WAS SO–SO
SHE WAS SO SORE, SO LOW, SO
SHE TOOK TO WRITING ABOUT DRUGS
WRITING ABOUT SMOKING
WRITING ABOUT ALCOHOL &
WROTE HERSELF REPEAT PRESCRIPTIONS & LINES &
METAPHORICALLY HUNG HERSELF TO A WASHING–LINE
AS IF HER SKIN WAS HER WASHING &
HID HERSELF BENEATH HER DRIPPING SKIN
ON AN ENDLESS LINE &
WANTED AN END, SO
SHE CUT OUT BEGINNINGS &
COLLECTED UP THE ENDINGS
WHICH IMMEDIATELY UNRAVELLED &
FOUND THEIR WAY INTO OTHERS' STORIES, SO
SHE SLUMPED DEEPER INTO THE BASEMENT OF HER WRITING:
SHE WANTS WINGS BUT FINDS HERSELF A SYRINGE,
SHE WANTS A CIGARETTE HOLDER NOT THE ASHTRAY OF IFS &
BUTS,
SHE WANTS A COCKTAIL NOT AN EMPTY BOTTLE,
SHE WANTS THAT CONFIDENCE, SO, SO MUCH,
SO...
Rupert Mallin
if we row we qui
ckly make up & making
up is the best part of our relation
ship & our argu
ments are but preludes to making
up & sometimes we argue over no
thing just to make
up, though once we nearly did break
up because she broke an orna
mental vase – so we could arg
ue to make up – but I had a senti
mental attachment to the vase,
for it was a gift from my
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
MUM
yet I knew we would make
up & I keep all the frag
ments to remind my
self what true
love is:
a vase
Rupert Mallin
With brush, pencil and stick her poem makes an appearance:
a made up, out of bed, out of the shower, out there poem;
an eye–lined, lip lush, highlighted bright poem;
a 'go to work on a poem' kind of poem;
a made up poem.
With cream, tissue and water her poem makes an appearance:
an indoor, into the shower, into her bed poem;
a red–eyed, lip cracked, pasty poem;
a "real me" poem;
a broken poem.
Tossing, turning, sweating her poem makes an appearance:
the boat of her life is ever sinking
& family & friends always knew she had pulled the
plug
& her favourite brush is matted with hair
& try as she does she can't pull this terrible poem
from its teeth, from her appearance, but...
With brush, pencil and stick her poem makes an appearance:
A made up, out of bed, out of the shower, out there poem;
an eye–lined, lip lush, highlighted bright poem;
a 'go to work on a poem' kind of poem;
A lady luck club loving poem;
A made up poem
Rupert Mallin
Saw you held
encircled
by pulses of the past
coming like a knife
with a point to make
over and over
You were blind in there
unable to forget
heavy as horses held
at the starting gate
Then
like a seed sensing light
straight out
tape falling, free
racing
Wings open
almost unbearable
being forgiven
Tim Lenton
Poet's comment: This is an example of a poem being inspired by a picture, but taking a different track in response to it. Annette's stunning image is called Fruitful, for obvious reasons, but I saw it also as a picture of someone being set free, which prompted the idea of forgiveness.
Looking down again, I see
the glow of the desert where we met.
You lie naked by the bush
that burned; you are
alone, having received
no message.
You put on your shoes again
and dance past bare walls into the trees, chasing
memories of lion and giraffe.
Flamingos discover the source
of the Nile: it is autumn, and you
are climbing into the snow.
The sky turns, and I plunge
through breadcrumb stars; you stand
beside elephants and rushing water,
wondering whether to risk
the crossing.
Your knees are bruised: I look down again,
then close my eyes. Suddenly
everything is clear.
Tim Lenton
Poet's comment: Here there is little direct correspondence between Annette's picture and the images in the poem. But the title of the picture and the atmosphere it created set me off on a dreamlike trail into aspects of Africa which I found striking.