In my magic box - WiFi
And Monteverdi - Orpheus and Euridice.
Mountain music and the Blues. The curl of ferns -
unfurling right before the eyes
And blackbirds - all birds really. Maybe not magpies. Books and books and books - more books
And shelves to put them on. And bees. And algae greening in the sun
In rainwater in a jar of glass
And books
And boxes
Angels painted by Fra Angelico
That I can’t ever copy but it makes me happy just to try
The Chinese Girl by Tretchikoff, I have the print beside me in this room
And bumble bees that have no wings or almost none
At all - but zoom around from bloom to tulip bloom
In the four foot yard outside my door
The door itself - my single key
A yale type key - that’s on a string of plastic blue
Beads. A butterfly in sunshine on the wall
Warming its open wings and cleaning up its antennae.
My Translink card that gives me free
Travel on trains and buses anywhere
Across the border, even, from this year-
At least in theory. It is not allowed
Just now.. And thunderstorms. And clouds
People, of course - in small amounts -
And family - I love them from across the Irish sea -
Hot water, baths, clean towels and hotel rooms
Salt water - roses. Curry takeaways
Or sauce on chips. Church bells
On Sundays . Wood to touch - alive in trees -
Or planks on floors and walls or furniture
And to keep us all afloat in this peculiar weather
A fleet of storm ribbed boats with well scrubbed decks, tar painted hulls
Anita Greg 21/04/2020
The Dreaming toads
This a land without toads
The waters rose, and slower than
The wolves and hares, they never made it back
Across the drowning valleys
After the last Ice Age . They didn’t bother running
- dreaming, squatting under stones
Room 216
Not everyone looks good in yellow
Head to toe in full-length suit
Elegant and slightly curving
Rare these days like any fruit
“Oh some people are Impossible aren’t they ? ” Richard said sympathetically to the young woman with the badge on her chest as he lounged in a friendly manner on her desk and gazed at her in her hotel uniform. He objected on principle to bullying of course and also he was travelling alone to a conference on the Novel and found her to be not without potential interest ” What was that awful man complaining about ? Load of nonsense I expect ”
“Oh - he was complaining about his room ... ”
“ Typical - he looks like the sort that would complain about anything - don’t let him upset you, he isn’t worth it - he really isn’t - you are worth SO much MORE than that ... What does he say is wrong with it? ”
“ I’m not upset. He says it isn’t there ”
“ what ?”
“ he says there isn’t a room between 215 and 217. ”
“Of course there is or why would there be a key ? - that key in your hand ?”
“ he says there is a door - the key fits the door - but there isn’t a room ”
“ that doesn’t make sense . What does the door open onto then ?”
“Nothing - he says Nothing ”
“How can there be Nothing ? What SORT of Nothing ? ”
“ what do you mean “What SORT of Nothing ? “
“ well - a Nothing full of Light ? A dark Nothing ? Cold ? Hot... Dry? Damp? ...Happy ... Sad ? .. What SORT of Nothing ? ”
The girl with the badge considered this. It had been an annoying morning already and enough was enough, she wasn’t paid for debating metaphysics, so she said “ This sort of Nothingness” and pushed him down the laundry chute
Then she put the key to room 216 back on the peg behind the desk
It was a bit of a puzzle - room 216 had been there yesterday - perhaps it might just come back by itself in a day or so.
Anita Greg 22/04/2020
Comments
Post a Comment