Untitled Dolphin Poem
break the back of a dolphin
strong and free
and breathe heavily to bole up enough spit
reverse over it using a car not worth your time
should you do that
you should see the pain you cause
is reading the same amount as writing –
as watching a dolphin counts as taking one into your hands
if you must read before bed, before me
do not dismiss the looks you pass
or the lack you pass off now
causing me late into the night
to start to write, not having the energy
to read from home
pass me into your hands
and your mind through your eyes
pass me into your life
for a time
like a transparent
and find what might be written
given time enough to read
and if that’s not what is wanted
in the end you’re strong and free.
---
Bin-Ladens
The crown of the sun rests its chin
on gilted, pottery roofs in which
were you to stand and fall through
you would find a woman with cups and crockery
leafing notes of currency that need be spent
Spanish water in bottles at her sandalled feet.
Counted, they would be distributed before the sun
releases its attachment from the roofs now baked
and begins its arc journey through the sky.
Chlorine might mist towards them
the contractor of a swimming pool being happy with his work
satisfied with paper in hand.
Ten miles along the road in heat,
tarmac sticking to the soles of those who walk it
the nearest foodshop greets it weekly paymakers.
Their stocks and insides develop, pitting words against
an aged small lady producing notes larger than her hand
and doing so thickly
though she tries to be furtive, discreet
especially when gifting a teapot to an English neighbour
its smooth, running surface to its pressed innards
laden with paper in swathes, weighing
most of the weight of the teapot
leaving it searched and valued
even so today as it sits prepped at a window
the house now sold from the neighbour
to a beady broker, intent on passing the property
to another English family for part-time living
after deciding against the neighbouring empty house.
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