Playground
I lie In a basket
swinging,
looking at the clouds,
feeling a chilblain
of sun on my face.
Watching an Irish flag
wave its patriot colours.
I Hear a distant tinkling
a cow bell ringing.
‘Hey diddle diddle
The cow jumped
over the moon.’
Baby bunting
floating
downstream.
Diddums.
The boisterous
noise of the boys
playing calls
me back.
‘Laughing
To see such
a sport.’
shooting
like stars
down the slide.
On The Edge
Weekends spent
on the edge
of bouncy castles,
gathering muddy
socks and shoes.
Soccer pitches,
watching balls
fly left and right.
On the orbit
of playgrounds,
pushing swings.
Swimming pool
changing rooms,
holding towels.
Waiting aside,
head left behind.
Heavens Open
I rest my finger tips
upon my breast bone,
just below my clavicle.
I feel crumbling, a silted
river bed. Rain pits the
windows. My stomach
chamber raises its
roof to meet the pouring
heavens. Like the
Pantheon we stumbled
into once, tipsy in Rome.
Arching our necks back
to look at the circle
of blue sky, streaming
light through its open
belly button oculus.
My heart for once,
does not want to
river free. It holds firm
and full, a ripening plum.
I hear the walls begin
to crack and crumble.
Hands fumble for pen,
paper, light to write
this down.
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