- Vol. 06
- Chapter 01
The mind is a jumble sale of images now:
memories tangled like winter scarves, fingerless gloves,
and empty handbags tumbling inside a box
in the back seat of a vintage car speeding through
the countryside I loved as a child. I can picture
the hinterland so well, grazing my skin
like summer salt: the smell of tree-sap, warm as blood;
the ancient buttonwood where I fractured a limb;
moonlight tattooing my bare shoulders as I swam
as I swim
in the lighthouse beam that peeped
through praying trees…
or preying trees?
the jangling of a bicycle chain slipped
in the rain…
the clacking of a record player
of Side A. I try flip to over it but something
gets the in way.
Like leaves dry falling from trees,
they disappear before they touch the ground.
I reach into the car as it stops
but someone has taped up the box
and their name…
why can I not recall their name?