sister
i am a shard
i am as brittle
as i am hard
i am as stupid
as i am smart
here as i am
lodged in your heart
meanwhile
on a cold sunday afternoon
on a beach
on a hill
in a faded sepia photograph
everyones life oozes out in congealing moments
i had dug a hook deep into the night
but morning had dragged me down by my heels
and i tumbled onto the floor moaning
my mind lay exposed
and i picked amongst the exploded suitcases
and tickets flew away into the wind
and i walked across a bare field after them
and the forests whispered amongst them selves allaround
people rifled through my memories
people took out my poor old re-examined childhood
people pretended to live my life
they tried to imagine it
my mother came out and-a shushed them all away
go home you stupid children ! she muttered as she slammed the front door
roses grew up over wrought-iron trellises
aunty fruity had come around to seduce me
but mummy didnt want me stay with her
but….
aunty fruity took off her nightie
her white english flesh was like peaches and cream
steven can you help me with this ?she said
i crossed the room
the lovely timber floors
the crimson curtains
steven can you bring me my wine?
aunty fruity had a goblet full of yellow bubbling wine
she was smoking a cigarette too
steven can you rub my beauty ointment into my back?
she rolled onto her stomach
her back was like the steppes of russia to me
plains and hills and gentle undulation
steven?
yes aunty fruity…..
steven are you going to rub in my ointment?
the ointment came out of the tube with a little squelch
it sat on my fingers cool and viscous
it had a lovely smell
i have never smelt that smell since
somewhere between medicinal and sickly floral
i applied it to her shoulders and i rubbed it in
my fingers took to it instantly
my fingers hummed and vibrated all over aunty fruitys white back
ooh thats nice steven said aunty fruity and wriggling a bit
the phone rang
it was my mother asking if i had been behaving myself
as good as gold said aunty fruity winking at me
a song came on the radio
there was a kind of sitar guitar riff
the singer wailed behind a wall of phase
in the memories of unforgotten dreams
the bass guitar climbed out of the speakers
and bounced around the room
like a big rubbery shadow
it was nebulous and insistent
i was kissing something white and soft
the smell of the ointment in my flaring nostrils
the music on the radio blared orgiastically
the speakers quivered and responded
the low end rumbled and pumped
my memory was rupturing
steven?
yes aunty fruity…?!
ooh yes love just there
just like that
oh i’m all tense
oh thats nice
youre very good at this, arent you…?
the phone rings
its uncle hugo
he yells down the phone at aunty fruity
piss off then !she says as she hangs up
she giggles and curls up on her side
silly man! she says
steven?
yes aunty fruity….
those damp boardshorts will chafe your thighs
aunty fruity looked at my thighs
yes dear theyre all chafed
she began to rub in her beauty ointment on my thighs
does that feel better dear? she asked as she rubbed n rubbed
a bee was caught in the window
it buzzed against the screen
i could hear it over the psychedelic racket on the radio
aunty fruity pauses in her ministrations
maybe a little here she says
yes aunty fruity i say
thats very nice indeed i say
suddenly the memory stops
i shake out the bag but its empty
i squeeze the tube but its gone
its not then
i’m standing here in this field
and its getting dark
and i’m on my own out here
looking through my old stuff
thats blowing across these barren fields
and catching on the light
the debris of a lifetime
exploded all over the place
the true and the false
intermingled
forever