I have a stomach-ache today. Not that it’s any concern of yours. I’m certainly not going to be divulging anything confessional in this blog. Unless it’s contained in a poem. And I have little to say today. I’m working on a poem called Acoustic Guitar which, I think, will deal with experiences between father and son, turning from boy to adolescent and a few other things I’m sure but it’s nowhere near ready to post here. So in the meantime here’s a little verse from my notebook.
Windows
Don’t ask the dying about death
Or the living of life
Each prefers the window to the mirror
You see them in hospitals and office blocks
Waiting at station stops
All glares diverted
As if those stray reflections caught in glass
Were cut from skin to stare unmasked.
And, of course, the link – Her, by Jackie Kay
This is a poem from her book Life Mask. There are a lot of poems in the collection. Many of them evocative, poignant, personal and touching; some of them a little repetitive. But who am I to criticise? I love the tenderness in this poem, that sits between friendship and love. It’s really beautiful celebrating a simple moment in life without regret.
Thanks for reading.
