Single-parented most of the time, it’s a wonder the ash trees come out of the forest, look around, heavy scene, where I think it impossible to get lost or make enough sense to pretend how a child has to abort a missing parent And the beer tasted perfect, like something he’d always dreamed of. The swill, his faceless mother on a raft dropped into an icy vault swallowed again and again, emerges in unnoticed tears neither parent present at the same time, mostly alone my foot falls on a bygone path overgrown the bearded tree stump limping in the liquid air complains as I molest its solitary watch. In the clearing I found three boxes of gas stained photographs courage lost the matches fell your smile cremated colour seeps, morphing history into dank monsters to haunt the vaulted halls of my memory searching stained sepias for the culprits, some likeness, some honour to this story a story with so many unpredictable twist and turns, creating in which i realise we are all single we are all parents abandoned like coral spawn to the elementals of water, wind, earth, fire in the maternal hearth in a heart icier than the abyssal depths no way to trawl or dragnet love There is no blood in a stone no reassurance in these memories so pick a corn crop the right rock an enviable predicament feel free to go off the deep end (but take me with you) note – notice notice – please read please place your shoes neatly at end of jetty we are reviewing your multi-policy for pike with three chickens coming home to roost.
Single-parented most of the time, it’s a wonder
14 December 2009