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Hairless
Can the bald lie? The nature of the skin says not:
it's newborn-pale, erection-tender stuff,
every thought visible, - pure knowledge,
mind in action - shining through the skull.
I saw a woman,...
Songs of a Quiet Woman
Songs of a Quiet Woman
lurching delicate as a snow queen down this street of greys
unfocussed exactly enough to miss the businessmen
goggling at my stocking deciding
(as I twitch primly into the...
It Is Here
It Is Here
(for A)
What sound was that?
I turn away, into the shaking room.
What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is...
For This
For This
If I've reached for your lines (I have)
like letters from the dead that stir the nerves
dowsed you for a springhead
to water my thirst
dug into my compost skeletons and petals...
In the theatre
In the theatre
'Only a local anaesthetic was given because of the blood pressure problem. The patient, thus, was fully awake throughout the operation. But in those days - in 1938, in Cardiff, when I was Lambert...
Gestation
Through flesh, muscle, water your hand
nudges my hand - recoils. Ticking over
in salt-water, you heal. Then your arm
extends, meets my palm - you lean on me:
shy, listening. Alluvium of churned...
Corpse
Corpse
This is my body, me, splayed
on the road's crown like a shot bird.
Back street. No cars. Men step
over me, dogs and crows investigate.
My eyes gape. Circuitry of soul
is...
Four Morbid Songs - an extract
Four Morbid Songs
I learnt to love a body once,
dead a year, in pickling spirit.
It was my nearest friend.
Every other day I lifted back
the linen lid and unpacked
fitted things. The...
De Humani Corporis Fabrica
De Humani Corporis Fabrica
after Vesalius
I know the names of almost
nothing
not the bone
between my elbow and my wrist
that sometimes aches
from breaking
years ago...
For What Binds Us
For What Binds Us
There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they...
Flowers
Flowers
Some men never think of it.
You did. You'd come along
And say you'd nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts -
The sort...
Calcium
Calcium
Because I love the very bones of you,
and you are somehow rooted in my bone,
I'll tell you of the seven years
by which the skeleton renews itself,
so that we have the chance to...
Siren Song
Siren Song
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible:
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the...
A Statistician to His Love
A Statistician to His Love
Men kill women in bedrooms, usually
by hand, or gun. Women kill men,
less often, in kitchens, with knives.
Don't be alarmed, there is understanding
to be sucked...
You're Beautiful
because you're classically trained.
I'm ugly because I associate piano wire with strangulation.
You're beautiful because you stop to read the cards in newsagents' windows
about lost cats and missing...
Poem from a Three Year Old
Poem from a Three Year Old
And will the flowers die?
And will the people die?
And every day do you grow old, do I
grow old, no I'm not old, do
flowers grow old?
Old things -...
