Diamonds
Funny old day today.
My hair is wet from washing,
the light shade is wafting with the currents of
warm air rising from the portable radiator.
Nathaniel is sleeping
and sweating by my side,
and I've spent the day in hiatus.
Waiting.
Thinking.
Reflecting.
Undoing.
Folded inside myself
Is a paper packet.
How incongruous that
a priceless collection of diamonds
Is folded like 4 oz. of sugar in a sheet of
white paper.
Where are the velvet
cushions?
The tasselled and monocled butler;
The ladies maid and
personal assistant,
The relatives ready
to dirty their hands if it will bring the paper packet hey presto into their
pocket.
Once Dad, unpractised with the magician’s suit,
Instead of a silk
scarf,
Brought out from the
coat tails a desiccated,
wrinkled old lemon.
Folded inside myself
a paper fold of
diamonds.
There is only one
beautiful one.
The rest are pretties.
But this one – yes it
is special.
My kin
Empathic with the
water and metal in my body.
We construct a
magnetic field around ourselves
with cotton threads.
Our world is one of geometrises,
arabesques and mandalas.
Crystal constructions
in prismatic colours and forms.
We consult the image
of magnetism
And believe
with the hearts and
minds of faith.
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