Friday, 30 June 2017

Poem: 'The Truth About How Gravity Really Works'

(or ‘does it feel good 
when I do this to you…?’) 
 …with acknowledgement to ‘Touch’ 

so we sit here, watching incense smoke-rings, 
hearing dark insects scratch behind the walls, 
& as you think, a drift of truth seeps in 
something that seems to feed you 

‘there is no gravity, worlds inhale, 
that’s all they do...’ 
‘so what happens when they exhale…?’ 

we begin trading lines, 
gravity is the geometry of ghosts, 
the moon and the dogs, the hills 
and the last train for home, 
gravity is days of dissolution 
in the black mind of the sun, 
gravity is sparks of being 
only borrowed, that keep on betraying, 
a blind vulture sinking its head 
into the stinking guts of light, 
air-raid sirens and a male-voice choir 
of 1,000 soldiers and a woman bawling 
through an electronic loudhailer, it is 
raw wounds, bouquets of teeth, &
people who dematerialise as night falls… 

so you wander off to the bathroom 
while I wonder where exactly you’ve been, 
soon you’re insisting ‘no, you’re wrong, 
gravity is what inhales me to you, 
while you only exhale…’ 

when you fix into my eyes 
I see futures, moss growing from my arms, 
my legs as witch-hazels rooting me underground 
my blood has become razors, the woman I love 
is fast asleep in our bed, all four of us must have died, 
now you’re saying I must stay, but I think no, 
it’s time I better… goooooo… 

Published in:
‘KRAX no.45’ (UK – November 2008)

And in my book
‘The Poet’s Deliberation On The State Of The Nation’ 
(Penniless Press)…

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