Thursday, 5 April 2012

Tooth fairies

An answer to Vanessa Kirkpatrick,
Correspondent and cellist,
Scribe of the opening question.

Who have come from the place
our dreams have been going to
with so much longing?  It is
surely only the wind who sighs
and snorts through the house
up and down stairs and summons
all our fears... for what?  For
posterity?  A life lived in the joy
of cessation’s shadow?  Of the
chance of deprivation at any
single moment?  How did I
lose you?  But they might
more likely ask the same
in time.  Oh in good time.

We offer you the time we have,
such as it seems and such
as it may be, you graveside
larrikin, you jester in the
memories of us.  I almost
want to die already, such
the poise and gentleness
of your jokes about the us
who were the we who were
the fear and joy whom you
became and joyed and feared
you us we were and thus
the children ever we.  But
that is tired philosophy,

not love as such.  Who spring
from unwounded and yet
rent us?  Who?  Who?  A dog barks
your place in the yard, food-
dropper, ball-fumbler, reckless
cackler, the life of the party
and soul of all our sport.
I went to you late last night
when you were beside your-
self, ínconsòlable, seething
with a teething rage.  We
were all at your cotside then,
as I’m sure you know – all do –
all of us in your company.

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