The Last Jewel
From under the willows a startle of blue.
I lift my paddle from black water,
let the current take the kayak and watch
the kingfisher jink down the river
pulsing turquoise luminescence,
flashes of your Lapis Lazuli ring
as you lift your hand to a flare
of sunlight through the kitchen window.
My thoughts linger on this morning’s churchyard,
the hollowness of earth on coffin,
and how we’d sit by the water’s edge
on those faded cane chairs,
their bindings unwinding,
me watching damsel flies fizzle among bulrushes,
you staring into bended reeds
on the distant bank.
Together we used to walk through the park,
you in your battered mink coat,
gaze fixed ahead as hoodied boys
scooted past on skate boards,
telling me I should be proud of my blood,
that I’m better than the people here.
I’d stare at the ground, scuff my shoes:
your words corroded me.
That last day you told me again
of the house with its avenues of oak,
the lake where your brothers fished for pike,
and the rain-sodden day in that jittery time
before the war when your soon-to-be lover
slid a blue-stoned ring on your wedding finger.
I take up my paddle, slice black water,
follow the kingfisher downstream.
3 am
Winter and I am awake again
in the darkness of a moonless night
no light to drive out the black animal
that creeps about my head
tonguing its way around hidden hurts
like an evil mother
licking to life the morbid thoughts
of 3 am.
Security
Before they changed the streetlights to orange
bedrooms were dark enough for ghosts
to mumble between floorboards
hungering for the toes of children.
On no-moon nights shadows slid
along alleyway walls,
while an ear-strain away on the path behind
footsteps tapped,
stars the only witness.
Before they changed the streetlights to orange
there were no mechanical eyes
clicking round the town square to spy on
the carnal abandon of teenagers.
Now city nightskies burn vermilion
around the guttering moon,
and all you can see through the trespassing glare
is a pin-point shiny satellite
watching you.
Copyright © Nicki Griffin 2013
