I like the condensed nature of poems: they’re great for capturing a theme, a moment, an emotion. Many poems I write, I’d never show anyone. I use them as sketches to express something I don’t understand, and often find they help me gain insights.
This is a poem I wrote during the process of working on Cooking with Bones, to get me connecting with the ‘raw material’. I felt as if I needed to get to know ‘bones’ as objects from a closer angle.
So with that in mind, I decided that I needed to:
a) attempt to understand them by writing a poem
b) pick a suitable target, perform a murder and subsequent extraction.
The latter was far too gruesome, and a little bit wrong. So here’s the poem..
each heartbeat, as it stops
continues as a drumbeat, in the
We bones ache to move out
of the living bodies we’re buried in.
We’re locked in and lively
slyly sheathed by
When we’re naked
we’ll dance truthfully.
Under any kind of light,
sun-stroke day or fluorescent night
we’ll glow pale as we clobber
build drum rolls; our echoes
will scramble through clouds,
as we ricochet