FLAMENCO

 

 

THE DREAM

You came to class

That day

With a name I could not pronounce

There was no announcement

Or wild fanfare

Teaching in the church

That Spring

The lack of air nearly

Chocked me

And the lilies sucked me dry

I took the register

Ticked your strange name

And looked you in the eye

Later asleep in my hard old bed

I shot into dreamtime

Laughing out loud

As you tickled me from behind

And I walked on your feet

Laughing and excited

Sensual and happy

The image of my father

I didn’t know until I awoke

That you had finally come.

 

 

THAT KISS

The day the bombs came

You telephoned

Shall we meet up?

I picked you up

Born again Christian

Waiting in Golders Green

We walked side by side

Through the labyrinth of Little Venice

Neither of us knew the way

You bought the wine

And there was a Fireman’s party

Raging upstairs

The sirens scared me

but your presence reassured

We talked of Christ and Istanbul

I could see scars on your palms

Later we danced together

Moving tentatively

Twisted and tied

And at the bar

I saw myself in the reflection

Literal eyes shining

Stone-like with young antiquity

Suddenly you pounced

Ripping out my heart

In one fell swoop

Your dark mane revealed

The crack of light

That burning ray of complicity

That  kiss

That night

 

 

 

FLAMENCO

My loins call out for you

And you have gone

Split me right in two

with your dark passion

Plucking at my heartstrings

Painstakingly finding the right notes

To make me float into your arms

And when I arrive their safe and sound

You pick up my taut body

Stretched with ecstasy

Turn the keys tighter

And snap me in two

 

 

OPTIC NERVE

Is this a short-stay room?

A bold light on the optic nerve?

Waiting to serve

Cruel of you to love me tender

Give so much

Then pull out of the match

Claiming previous injuries

Just as I was about to

Serve a perfect ace

 

 

 

WHISTLER

Your voice feels like home

Full deep and strong

The rain pummels down

London Bridge grey

And wet

In the fog

Like a Whistler painting

A grey dull day

Incongruous

To my Hampstead summer

And at Canary Wharf

A German architect

Asks if my heart too is grey

And in this London

Watery silence

I sigh and turn away

 

 

 

BOMBS

The suicide bombers have ripped

The trains apart

You too strapped with lethal explosives

Waited for the right time

To detonate your desire

And as they search through the debris

Torn flesh and ash

Impossible to breath

you too leave me suffocated

Dismembered and disabled

picking up the pieces

of bloodied bone

and ripped up insides

and like the bombers

you run and hide

 

 

 

EARTHQUAKE

Your eyes go so far

Into my flesh

Deep soulful

Eyes of a man

Who has seen so much

Re-built cities

shaken to the ground

Seen men dying in your arms

And you too

shook me

To the very core

As I lay there

Shattered from your might

You stood up and left

So I lie in the cracks

And I realize

You will not re-build my city

And I feel this time will never end

 

 

 

 

THE SECOND COMING

 

They said you would come

They told me from

The time I was born

You came are coming

Would come

And wash away my sin

My heart is full

To bursting

Jesus

Come anew

What we have been waiting for

And your hair

Glistens black and grey

But the best part

Is your sunken chest

Full of treasure

Where I lie my head

I press down hard

I wish I could get in

And stay

Every sinew in me

Wants to be with you

I’m ready to do

Anything for you

Love is the inside

Gurning

And my life now

Churning

As you leave

burning

 

 

 

 

 

DRIPPING

What makes my innards lurch?

You my love

I feel so full

looking at you

Your grey steel black hair

Raw fingers pluck the guitar

Flamenco proud

and taut as desire

in your deep black-eyes

we are transformed

I look you in the bulls-eye

I don’t care if my

heart is dripping

from my sleeve

I know it is wrong

to be half-loved

But your half-love

Feels stronger

Than any whole love I

Never had

 

 

BONE CHINA

My hands are too small

To play Flamenco

Let me see

You take my little hand

Child-like bitten down nails

Lie in your manicured hands

Graceful and surprisingly pale

Your thumb- nail

As long as the Golden Gate Bridge

Designed to pluck

Music from my string heart

Fine bone China hands

Flamenco smooth strength

Like a sculpture

Seen in Autumn

In a Parisian garden

Or God’s Hands

At the Gates of Eden

My forever diamond ring

Sparkles conspicuously

In the dim car light

What peasant gave you this?

A handsome guy I reply

You squeeze my gear-stick hand

Locked in between yours

Tight as a vice

A pearl in your oyster shell

The truck lights flood us

Magnificent splendor

My life in your hands