Thursday, March 30, 2017

James Walton #46 Scenes of the Rural Domestic

They go off like a sherbet bomb
settling joy all around
a new baby introduced at home
lickable as fairy floss in a swaddle

Great grandma is in the blue gin
telling of how he never worked a day
but she gave up the circus life
its elegant parabola of trapeze

Two cousins roll their own
in the symmetry of twins in a mirror
sweaters over folded arms
to disguise the handcuffs beneath

The screen doors are hanging on
as children bang in and out
running through everyone’s place
jumping the dogs’ sleepily drooling patience  

Looking into eyes
that don’t yet know their colour
a fart gurgles down my forearm
a smile an arching back

The smell of cooked chips
gets into everything
and you know absolutely
you know with absolute conviction

caught uncompromised in this cleft of living

that you would sever any ground
deny all causes or beings
to keep her safe here
from each and every predator


  1. Beautiful. I love the part about the handcuffs x

  2. A father's poem, James. So powerful. How well I remember my sudden hot & murderous the forceps delivery of my son...when the doctor inadvertently nipped I saw the blood on his little cheek.


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