Lizz Murphy — Poem 124: From a notebook

FROM A NOTEBOOK

At the lift a leg in a surgical steel contraption has been here for weeks months wanted her it cut off but a cleaner said she’s seen bigger and better holes than that watch what you wish for She can do skiddy moonwalks in her wheelchair now The only time you ever squeeze a pimple  the teenager drifts off A woman built like a sprung spring sofa • A walk through earlier poets • Young doctors in stethoscopes and patent boots tots in pink pyjamas firm mothers old plebs in a line-up If you can walk to the café you can pull pants over your underwear remember the white gown opens down the back even men’s thighs can be fat and cellulous • Mystery laughter and grave voices • He pushes her in a wheelchair today Something has changed it’s more than Saturday he wears no shoes and odd football socks • Love is an abundant thing a bird flying across a small cloud • There is no god. I am God and I said it. Now all go home and stop this singing badly. The bumble in the bee the hair of the hare the feather in the weather • New T’ai Chi fan Drill screws • What size is a fragment anyway  I thought I’d talk about frags make up a new word but it’s already a hand grenade as if words don’t cause enough trouble