House of Allusions

 

Woken in the night

by drip drip drip

snare drum beats

like regrets and broken promises

and ever since, silence

we’ll fix the hole

before the rains return

but the memories remain

 

Damp patch by the front door

creeping slowly

a lengthening shadow

beyond the chalk outlines

which never became high and dry

during the hot summer

next door has them too

but theirs is brown and patchy

a different metaphor

 

Black spots like minor sins

appear in corners and conscience

it takes something industrial to remove them

I’m not sure I’m up to it

 

The windows are misted up

inside the double glazing

where no one can wipe

obscuring the view

like fading eyesight

like fading recall

 

The sink cupboard has shifted

gaping from the wall

I think my floor is sinking

pulling everything apart

 

Outside this house

the sun shines still

after the rain

and the garden appears

full of life

drawn up from underground

where buried are plans and desires

becoming real and vibrant and possible

a surprise of colour and texture

and miniature worlds like poetry

 

 

Sometimes I don’t know where the house ends and the metaphors begin

I can’t tell anymore

We need a lot of work done

 

The Shed of Dreams

 

If I sit on the floor, and look up at the window,

A square of blue sky waiting for my release

Imagine a stone cold floor beneath me,

And the ratty debris is of my only companion

 

And the rain lashes the window like a ship tossed at sea

Expecting the crack and flashes of thunder and lightening

I could steer us from an upturned bicycle

From a skateboard sliding as the waves roll and wallow

 

In the dark looking out at the constellations burning

Waiting for my orbit to roll earth into view

Hot tea breath steaming up the window

 

The door is open, and the enchanted path leads to the giant tree

Through forget-me-nots and unkempt grass

Beyond the Himalayan honeysuckle,

And the flowering currant bush where the wasps make paper lampshades

The door framing wild flowers and foliage

Cropping out fences and markers of suburbia, extending the view forever

 

Yes a shed of dreams,

not just a place for lawnmowers and rusting garden furniture.