Time Out
I think I’ll take a holiday, said Death
Perched on jagged mountains, I’ll watch the sunrise
dark tattered wings will flutter and dance
prayer flags on a crystal breeze
Let the cells of the unborn divide, for now
as they flex finger stumps in gentle gloom
pirouetting on threads to muffled beat
At noon I’ll fly low over desert expanse
swooping and twisting in the bronze light
my bleached bones warmed by molten dunes
Suffer the little children for one more day
let them sip black water in the heat, fly-eyed
their weak tears drying on gnawed lips
I’ll enjoy a late lunch to the echoes of a canyon
pick at my gap-tooth chaps with stalagmites
then spiral upwards with the bats, hallooing!
Soldiers, no need to take cover in the dust
Migrants, push your crowded dinghies onto surf
Workers, shrug off chest pain and suicidal thoughts
Afternoon tea will be supped on the hoof
drinking in the tuneless, timeless cacophony
of rainforests, stripped and shorn
The young can dream their dreams today
lie down in traffic, storm the buildings
brave shields and batons, gulp tear gas as they cry
Dinner will be subtly lit by capital cities
Tiny neon dots of hope, far beneath me
warding off the eternal yawn of space
Revellers, drink and drive, screw and snort
Medics, snatch an hour on your narrow cots
retreat from morgues and wards as quiet as the grave
I’ll spend the night with the solitude of icebergs
float in inky seas under a scarred and pitted moon
find a resting place of glacial silence
Let the old folk see their last visions tonight
Smoke cigarettes in bed, quaff whisky
Wrestle cancer through the wee small hours
Then I’ll return to work, said Death
with a vengeance
I will alight once more, by this old lady.
She will be here still, sighing through a tube
for her young self; her husband, lover
Her eyes will be half closed in pain, and welcome
Then I will draw close to her, refreshed
And kiss her mouth, with gossamer softness.
Life in a box
I wear no bra, sip coffee
scan smug email from the ex
boy next door swears at the game
flicking thumbs in panic
girl down the road kisses phone
cool planes of lover’s face
old granny at number twelve
coughs phlegm into sleeve
numb nurse dresses buddy
face mask, apron, gloves, fear
prime minister puffs commands
From behind his plastic muzzle
patient near him sleeps on
ventilator gasps in shock
………..
Bec lives in Highland Perthshire and loves life, and writing about it. Keep on keeping on.