My wife

My wife. pic for poem

 

she lies naked on the bedroom floor

doing  yoga poses, utterly exposed

these are the moments I like best

one leg drawn into the waist

a scissor of flesh in soft light

the darker shape of body hair obscured

an ineluctable triangle of mute desire

and we talk and share this shared space

this one, of many, moments that accrue

to form a comfortable bond. a union of trust

then I will go and do something quite mundane, like

clean my teeth or make a cup of tea

as she unfurls in blind nakedness to stretch

into another pose that readies her for the day

that we go toward, together, as innocents

Dash

Dash

 

Make speed you timid beast

go quickly, to a blur

on loping, elastic legs

outreach the other ones for fun

and track back to Bob and Madge

for their calm containment

until another contender dares

to put you to the test

and is left, inevitably, in a flurry

of losing dust quite off the pace

and panting, deflated. Bemused.

Whilst we human types applaud

the grace and dignity of flight

Go Dash. Embrace the wind

and wait on uneven terms

for another one to take a tilt

at your flashing title

Go Dash.

The first

The first.jpg

How apt to start the month,

with a Monday

Now we’ll expect symmetry to unfold

Like logic. As it should

And all the curly wurly thoughts

False starts and chaos of the past

Be tamed. Brought into line

Oh, how kind, to start like this

To give us all a break

This democracy of chance

Whence one, the first, could be the last

Figures rolling, resolving to be

Significant in patterns that repeat

The life cycle. But neatly

And if all the lights go out

Then what, my number fetishists

Are we cast into a darkness

Of tumbling die

Where confusion will drown clarity

And logic leak from the cracks

Of pursed lips that crave conformity

New days. New dawns

They are not cheap

Entrusted as they are

With all we most want to keep

Perhaps we should be

Blind to numbers that conform

To patterns that unfold in sleep