The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
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extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
Thursday, 13 June 2013
Shimmering in the curb
it caught my eye from the top
of the house steps, some thirty yards away.
From there it seemed to be at rest. (Later,
I would see the tiny vibrations animating it.)
It lay beside the spot where I had parked
my car, though so obsessed by it was I,
I failed to spot the car had moved --
been moved -- much further down the road.
Closer, I made out that it was brass,
of maybe a hand's length, with three fins
at the blunt end. Along the top was printed
the one word: STATUS, beside which
an orange light, pinhead size, was flashing long,
long, short, long, off. From the object's nose
two jets were spewing thick, hot, bubbling
liquids like two mini oil spills,
one of which, dark brown, evaporated slowly
in the gutter as I watched; the other, yellow,
was disappearing down the nearest drain.
Being on call, I had my doctor's bag with me,
and used my stethoscope to listen to the thing.
Inaudible without my doctor's listening device,
from inside I heard a noise like distant thunder.
That decided me to page a guy I knew who had
some expertise and influence. Janita brought
the bomb squad, calling it an exercise. And that
was just as well, because when they arrived
I and the rest of the road - all my neighbours,
as far as the paper shop -- were sound asleep;
the bomb had split open, and was playing
The Marseillaise , whilst above it
a twenty feet high cardboard elephant was dancing
and waving strings of banana shaped balloons.
Written for The Sunday Whirl from the wordle shown below.