PAErsche Meander - a writing respond by Helen Davison (UK)

Page 1

Creaking boughs shiver to stillness Birch

Breath

You suck in the scent

Bridged

I lie

safe in your arms

resting in your lap

An unconscious gesture Your thumb gently strokes soothes smoothes out the knots

Burns float

Obscure(the)words

Face down

Motionless fading to a milky streak

They circle

drawing dragging it out Tracks followed to no resolve

Keep moving Spinning Turning Dragged for several metres and abandoned


Soft crunching of whispering feet

There are times I forget you ever existed

until the weight of you leans back in

Rolling Lapping at the concrete On your back

sand

bark

caught in the weave

pressed into the flesh

A single leaf clings to your calf Suckling

under the lights your skin turns

Pale and pallid except for where the red seeps out

You wait and watch and walk away

the tyres lick


Sand arcs from your toe

scooped up and displaced

Streamers wave

from hands in empty motion

Leftover mourning

limp and light

They hang faded They fray

ragged edges bearing the tug and wet slap loose ends searching out their new surroundings

Your chest rises

they fall like snow

to settle softly on the ground

You seem much older then when we last met I used to watch you play Primary colours

their vibrancy diluted by vague memory But the shrieks of glee ring through

Bounce off metal rails and crescendo into feedback loops Screams of joy as you fly past running for hours in endless circles You turn over

the smile melted from your face

the ink starts to itch You’ve already left

A thorn snags a dried crease

resisting the moment

Set upon a stage

set upon They circle you converging close coming closer Jeering Which were you trying to break? Maybe neither? Maybe none? ‘It was broken when I found it’


There are no new words

just the same one repeated You snatch a stick from off the ground Wait for it you close your eyes in expectation

Hiding

Soft sand

Smear stains Far away

Hair flips like paper

Leaves


I mistook the shape of your body Silver limbs climb cut short

elastic cutting into the meat of your thigh

Which one of us are you protecting? Maybe neither? Maybe none? ‘What difference does it make now?’

we find you balancing in the rafters

pressed against the skylight

worrying at the cracks they branch off feeling for the sky Glass shards Held in place by a silhouette Turned to Winter

A punctured lens A miniature version bobbing in the glass Bent and twisted

rotating in your own wake

You meet the waves They froth and foam about your waist

Teeth Gritted into a grin

spill new from the packet ripped open


Residue

clawing

You’ve done this before scratching binding They take the shape of your body

Tipping into an exchange A forest of fallen limbs Entwined and then with twisted neck Focussing on a tilt Before it lands to smother you in heavy comfort

snapped back

cocked to one side


they find you walking in extended circles Treading ashes already sown You can’t or won’t tell us where you’ve been Not here or anywhere at all No way of mapping the presence of your senses The tense slips I slide into you And there you stop

not willing to engage

Your shell curves in front of me hanging empty on the hook You’ve already replaced yourself Shed us like skin ‘You wouldn’t understand’ She opens her hand and closes it again I listen to the gaps

picture the tongue rolling inside its cage

‘How could I?’ Instead I stand looking up at the leaves as they float down Fallen pollen golden

a slight sheen

They sweep you into a petri dish ‘You’ve covered some distance’ Or so they tell us But you’ve been here the whole time From the next room I hear you bumping along the ground

the same shade as the shadows


Gently unravelling in the breeze She waits and watches them depart With another empty wave She waits And climbs back into herself


All routes return as roots They lean until they snap The raw end cradles your chin Bites at your throat Murmur slow creak gently feel for where it hurts

tend the wound wound round

Sweat sweet with exposed sap heavy in my nostrils I can taste you

Stakes are driven into the ground the maypole raised up Partly disintegrating Blue paint scratched and flaking

strains on the leash

unleashes a bark

She skips to draw the lacing tighter Over Under Over Under Turned against

You bend the light in

part hinged buckling with a groan

The parts of you that I can see crunch into one another Bits of you have fallen off How much can you gather? Can you carry? Can you hold?


Swaddled and repackaged Flailing limbs eased into restraints ‘You’re making a scene’ She draws you back out gently

contrite

Rebirthed with precise incision You rasp against her brittle insides Your cry barely rustling the paper bag

A line of tiny boats

the fading sun glints off their bows A flame is cast adrift to consume the border bites and tears but it’s still there

Half of you is left on the bank €1000 for half enough petrol Her expression replenishes the tide ‘You left the tags on’ She watches you toy nervously at them 'No returns’ Her heart sinks ‘Just… because’


Shadows mirror Wrappings wind Like the gashes that twist up your leg Until they meet a horizontal cut A limb abbreviated

Another ghost its shroud sops up the deluge

A little sigh brushes against the floor

Meander Helen Davison, September 2020


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