I Am a Child

Went to the cupboard but there was nobody there
Except for some bones and a tangle of hair
Came to the conclusion that no one would care
If I tripped on my words and slumped in my chair

dreamed a dark dream of that consisted of you
back in the amber of nineteen seventy-two
A green clay Golem in a dusty unmade home
Head touching rafter and eyes made of stone

Shambling the sand floor in marked out rooms
The history of one while the future loomed
In the back of my car in the back of my mind
The stitches the threads in photographic rewinds

Mementos illusions tricks of the light
Face fading as yellow chemicals ignite
In the heart of the sun in the head of the moon
Prophecies dance in the heart’s ballroom

I am the face in the mirror the touch of your hand
I am the seashore sculpture made out of sand
Whose grains are not counted but randomly blown
Across dunes of tomorrow where the future is sown

Not by the seeds of decay the half-life isotope
But by the deeds of the wilful, the children of hope
Tied to the mast as the maelstrom descends
turning the screws where the spiral begins

August 2007

No comments: