Do we ever see the microadjustments
being made as we move past people
their glances tilting to one side
in time with invisible particles
disguised as raucous indifference
every atom scrambling to be noticed
because maybe it’s a cellular thing?
At the indoor gym in Seaford
children are climbing with their parents
who, older and heavier, have belay duty
microadjusting their weekend charges
small bags of white flowers, sugar memories
wee boys and girls winging up through space
on ropes tight enough to be always safe.
Sure it’s cellular – I’m climbing with my son
fifteen years after buying a tiny body-harness
remembering how carefully I adjusted it for him
before he launched himself at improbable results
and now, now he is belaying me for the first time
and damned if he doesn’t have me on a tight rope too
I climb faster and when I top out, he lets me down gently.