inflections after the flick of ash,
Before the crash, before the whiplash;
Of thoughts collecting before they arrive,
Of the deep breath before the dive.
This is the sound,
Of tender fingers in a clenched fist,
Of the wind carrying an invisible kiss,
Of a secret unfolding wish,
Before the candle blows like a lisp.
This is a celebration of sound,
Of words said after the phone’s put down,
After the door’s shut at the editor’s cut –
Thoughts said after the word ‘but …’
Thoughts caught between the lines –
The reading sounds of needing minds.
This is the sound of beneath the laugh,
Beneath the draft, beneath the craft –
The space between the paragraphs,
The pause between the polygraph,
The actor acting out of her skin,
The sound of shedding sins.
The sound of spirit, the sound of soul,
The sound of heat, the sound of old
Dreams fading, reawakening time;
Of hope breaking the mould of mind,
Of the beat before the hands clap,
The click, the clack, the trip, the trap;
The sound before a dropping latch,
The sound of looking back – the 22nd catch.
This is a celebration of sound,
Words said after the phone’s put down,
After the door’s shut at the editor’s cut –
Thoughts held after the word ‘but …’;
This is the sound before death;
In the beginning it wasn’t the word,
It was breath.
As long as they think they can push you
Around with unwritten laws
Saying which kind of car you can drive,
Which woman you can date,
Which occupation you can take,
Or which street you can live in,
You are not safe.
As long as they think they can push you
Around with unwritten laws
Saying how your name should be shortened,
Which food you should eat,
Which way you should wear your hair,
Which house you should live in,
Which language you should use,
You are not safe.
As long as they think you are a target
They will take aim.
As long as they think they can push you
Around with unwritten laws
About which country you should live in,
Which smell you should prefer,
Which restaurants you should eat in,
Which places you should go to at night,
Which cricket team you should support,
Or which route your child or friend should
take to school,
You are not safe.
As long as they think you are a target
They will take aim.
Do not get used to these thoughts,
Do not engage with them,
They will devour you.
Do not wear them or grow with them,
Do not challenge them or walk in them,
Do not counter them.
We should prepare for arguments,
Lay down the tablecloth
And silently place the cutlery
In exactly the right place.
We should serve each other’s food
And eat with our hands,
Pick at the chicken,
Maul the potatoes.
We should then wipe our mouths
With the tablecloth and begin.
You are so perfect
When you kick them the leaves flit to the trees,
Look back to you and applaud.
You are so perfect
Branches part in forests to share sun’s shine,
Squirrels watch you between acorns,
Foxes wake.
You are so perfect
