Edge Hill 1992
Inspired by Clare Shaw’s Rainhill Psychiatric Hospital 1992, and quoting Mary Oliver.
It felt like
having a lot to prove
to noone in particular and trying
to style everything out.
Like really really wanting
to be told I was good.
Good as if I were new again,
marked as good, looking
good, as good as it gets,
good to eat and good
to be eaten, good to go
out into the world, good
as gold deeds in a gold
mine, all good. I had to be good.
You do not have to be good.
I stuck goodness up on my walls,
magnolia lath and plaster
covered in blu tac, I billowed
the good white shower curtains
in the breeze, stuck them
to good damp bodies. I opened
my window to watch
all the people who were
actually good.
I place my feet with care in such a world
A Golden Shovel, using words from WE Stafford’s The Well Rising
Walking out, under my feet I
squish the tiny yawning sunrises, place
myself upon the earth, lift my
legs and watch the plants rebound, feet
forgotten. I only stayed with
them a while, they did not care,
no more than for an insect in
the Spring, which might in such
a place help to bring life, a
tiny breath of life in our world.
I place my feet with care in
such a world as this.
You will know you’re here
You will know you’re here by the cold rain that
soaks you sideways, the sea that’s not ready
to relinquish the land, seals’ heads testing
the wind and splashing back down. You will know
because you’re soaked every which way, the sea
telling you you’re here by cuddling in
not ready to splash back down. You will know
by the way you’re breathing, short, sharp, holding
it, telling you you’re here by cuddling
in to the knits like a cute cosy cat
by the way you’re breathing, long, deep, holding
your comfort in the cushions. You will know
how to knit eventually. You’re here. You’re
breathing in the books like a cosy cat,
comfortable in the cushions. You will know
by the books, beautiful, bountiful books.
You’re breathing in the books like you’re cosy,
relinquishing the sight of the seals’ heads
for the books, beautiful, bountiful books.
Don’t look at the cold rain, just know you’re here.
Flight of the dragonfly 