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Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

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Joan Poulson

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They’ll Give a Party

I shove through mist
and in the garden hear the clarinet blue of chicory
and another tiger’s face

but the dampness has tentacles
that drag me to the ground

I creep indoors
find something soft and warm to wear,
cancel meetings
               wonder where she is...


I have lit candles and I’m not sure why.

Perhaps this flickering light will help her endure
or find the way.


When did you last gather sun-warm blackberries,
pick and bite a Worcester?

Did your fingers ever flick through foam
on an empty silversand shore,
nothing in your mind

but the sun’s hands gentle on your skin,
tangy ocean sparkling in your hair
      and every pore open?

Where did they come from
tormenting beasts
lying in wait
cackling failure and hopelessness?
snatching
at your soft shoulders?

Did you hear the pavement’s hollow echo
as you skipped home from school
feel the ground’s quicksand shudder
as you somersaulted over the lawn
to your birthday cake and the smiling family faces
that became melting masks?

Why weren’t the loving words enough?

Somewhere there’s a turquoise river
where Shel and Freddy dangle bare feet
enjoy green silences
and play with sound
dance to the jingle-jangle music of the stars.

I know they’ll budge-up, let you sit in the space
they’ve saved for Baez and the Tambourine Man.
They’ll give a party, invite their friends
to welcome you
and you will meet your joyous self there among them.

 

Page(s) 29-30

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