Mr Brough   

brisk                sharp
has been elbow deep in me
I imagine my intestines          lilac blue
and steaming gently in the unexpected air

unravelled they can stretch
the whole way round a tennis court
they told us that in school
I never thought I’d put it to the test

the bowel reacts to being handled
can be skittish might flounce
peristalsis – that squeeze that starts as swallowing
then ripples sweet and regular right through –

must settle down into its proper rhythm
meanwhile strange surges flutter
as if a trout is netted in my belly
and now it flexes slippery and strong

I think of Mr Brough
and riverbanks
of skill honed by practice
the sly gutting of a fish

 

Jan Dean

 

Posted in A poem a day for April | 2 Comments

Cleaning Up

A new poem appearing here:
https://newbootsandpantisocracies.wordpress.com/2015/06/29/day-forty-nine-jan-dean/

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I  will make shift

make              shift
move              build
carry

let the making           move me
the songs lift

I will shape the space
watch the light          dapple
my placemaking

involved         inloved
I will find the blessing in it

Jan Dean

Posted in A poem a day for April | 2 Comments

That Moment

there are stars in him
and suns
everything that shines
from metal in the mountainside
to the yellow scales of small bright fish
shines in him now

all this overflowing light
every raindrop in this cloud
is rainbow, mirror, lantern, lens,
doubling and doubling
until we cannot look,

until man and mist are shining as one thing
and every universe that spins
across the vast deep sky
is here

Jan Dean

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things I took and things I left

tea by the window watching a blackbird
chuck moss clumps from a gutter
beakful after beakful

dregs

the air on West Walk cold
bright as minted silver
the sea fraying at its lace edges

no footprints

the colour of that hill under the moon
milk blue and made of stars

two drops of blood by the stile

Jan Dean

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Overheard in the newsagent’s

it’s like that woman ………………….Carla something
her with the monogrammed eyebrows

I know exactly who ………………….and what
she means……………………………….love

how that dropped stitch information
has been ravelled up ……………….afresh

my mother did that ………………..always fitting
new words …………………………….to the closest match
she had in store

…………………………………………….the only milk
we ever drink ………………………..is semi-skilled

Jan Dean

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lovesong for a sleeping child

when I have combed and carded all the clouds
I’ll weave a greywhite blanket for your bed

 
when I have ravelled up the sky
I’ll spin the silk of it to soft blue sheets

 
and all the sun that gathers in the moon
will make a pillow feathered with gold light

 
the stars I’ll leave alone my love
to spin in darkness high above your head

Jan Dean

Posted in A poem a day for April | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments