I have seen her, wonderful!
A waterfall of hair, body like glass,
Wading through the goldfish pools in winter,
Her white sharkskin dress dark-wet above her thighs,
The very shape and effigy of love:
Or turbaned, earringed, lying on the lawn
Among the clover burrs, her bangles clacking,
reading Ern Malley.
Oh! her nipples under her black lace bras
And flimsy blouses, her gold hair pins
Strewn in the car upholstery.

In the bar of the O.B.H. the crème de menthe
Slopped in the green squid bottles on the shelf,
The rain beat in great waves, running down
the plate glass windows.
On V.E. day a Yank gob somersaulted through
A jagged icy cut-out in the air,
Crusted with drops of blood.
‘Shall I marry?
Who shall I marry?
Shall I die now
Swallowing Lysol one glittering afternoon
Before my breasts fall and my womb tilts?’
Salt and water, the stomach pump
Coils like an evil creeper, wraps her round,
Choking and arching in the public ward.
In the queues outside the abortionist’s
The white statues of cupids tumble at her feet.

The policewoman stands righteous beside her bed.
‘Next time you try it you won’t get away with it.’
Obliterate me, save me, I go down
Hanging by my hair into the great avenues
of dust and leaves.

Fugitive as morning light she moves
In a thin rain out and across the river
leaving no footprints.

 

 

CONTENTS: MARCH 2011