Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Freewriting Again

because I tell my students to do it

serenity is the wrong colour of police lights
cosy, serene blue wailing crazy down the street.

Black men snuggling blondes
in a pub
even the White men don’t speak

unseasonable weather
Katrina, Katrina, Katrina
unrecognisable siren.
is it death or healing singing

two boy children zip past

my 8:30 table rocking
bedtime. where is
your mother? where am
I? now at this suckling hour,

my student waves at me from a bus.
it is the first time this has happened
here. waving happens to other people.
it is a thing from my past

where women dress all in black
and wear white shoes

confidant. uncaring.
startled and sad
I realise nobody
ever told an entire nation

of women, you are too old
to dress in this manner.

They are a constrained
frivolous group of random

which mean nothing in context.

A middle age woman struts
in a lilac satin formal skirt
topped with a sporty cotton hoodie
as if

most women wake; greet
each of their individual body parts;
and invite them to decide
in what manner they will be less offended today.

the hips want sweat
pants. breasts desire
silk black camisole.
feet demand sandals -
birkenstocks specifically -

allowing your body
this level of control.
what havoc would ensue?
but tea always happens

and biscuits are served
with vicious politeness.

a man on a cell steps outside of the pub
to walk in circles
“i’ll be there, yeah, i’ll be there
cheers mate, cheers.”

blue is the Holy Mother’s colour
why is it screaming,
chasing, trying
to bring gunfire

to a firearm
free nation

which has no choice but to shoot
offenders now. my heart.
Would you tell me? offer it
as sashimi? yes i agree,

the rice feels like too much
of an accessory -
like these women
who use a blue strip of sequins

for a scarf on cloudy days.
these things after all

connote choice.

1 comment:

Mendi O. said...

um. i kind of love this.