I hate it when

There are elephants on the roof – they are soooo noisy

there are frogs in my bathtub and there is no room for me

there is jelly in my sandshoes and it squishes between my toes

my cat disguises herself as a lion

a fish jumps out of the ocean into my ice-cream.


Justin how you teased me with your crystals and owls’ wings
With your shaman rippling mantra and your box of sacred things
I rented out your service and with it came out your charm
You held me up a mirror
I would have liked your arms.

You said that I would like it and you’d go gently then
Cause you could see my fragile nature lying just below my skin.
So you whirled my head with chanting and with salt and smoky scents
Then you brushed my naked newness with distance and respect.

You smiled at my re-birthing and you took your gentle leave
Then I sobbed as much with longing as emotional release.
That’s ages past now Justin and I haven’t seen you since
But I count you in my treasure list of life’s experience.
I devoured what you offered, and as the giver that’s your risk
and maybe I give others just a little of your kiss.


The small red muscle twitched on display on demand. I was sliding past the various displays pushed gently by the moderate crowds, noisy buzz of gentle conversation floated around me.  Alone, in no hurry, exploring the university on open day.  The dark stone buildings, austere and serious and yet delicious with the hopes and study and struggle and success of so many students, some humbled and dedicated to be there, others arrogant and off-hand but those dark bemused stone walls had watched it all. The Zoology department – absurd name of course but for the frog it wasn’t funny. Poor dear dead frog, laid out on the dish in front of me with his muscly oversized beautiful leg splayed akimbo and neatly dissected.  The electrical wires,  garish plastic on his soft muscle and on demand, press the switch, the poor dear dead frog would twitch.  Fascinated. Stop, hold my spot, let the crowd pass. Sad of course and a moment of apology to the frog, not for his dead-ness, that wasn’t my fault, but acknowledging the sadness of his dead-ness, and then a swift apology for validating the act by my looking on, and then – fascinated. I want to do that I thought. Muscles, nerves, chemicals, physiology, zoology. I want to be part of these stone buildings. Not ‘I want’ – ‘I am’.   … and I did.


Handwritten. Your fingers had clutched the pen that had touched this page and if I touch the page now, I am connected to you.  I am holding the tiny scrap at my face on my cheek, holding your fingertips by the ink between us.  Your fingertips, as they slip away from me; I had a dream where I watched you fall away, falling back away and away, and even now my tears are pouring past the little scrap of paper.

So few words to say so much. How come I didn’t realise. I thought we were close. We were close. Why today, why now, why so much contained within you and barely a drop leaked out.  How bad was it on the inside for you.  I only focussed on your light. The centre of you was a shining bright light. The shadowy figures that darted around that light just made the light seem more intense.  They were your dark humour, your quirky side; I didn’t know they were your torturers.

The tears have stopped.  I am beyond tears. I am still. The world has stopped. In my normal bubbling busy world I so often wished the world would stop. I didn’t mean it like this.

Your hand is close to mine

Your hand is close to mine
I should be hearing your words
But I am not in this place
I am a voyeur
Enveloped in the sensory

Your lips move but your voice is a foreign melody
Words don’t register only your proximity heats me
You move with the confidence of clear sight and the smoothness of a cat
You are unselfconsciously strong especially against my small frame

It’s a normal room, music playing
I hold a drink, topics flow but your hand is close to mine.
I am relaxed, at ease, content and yet a tight spring is curled in my core
Cocked with expectation.
I am aware and yet unaware.
Your hand touches my hand
Strong and with intent
This is what I didn’t know
And I dissolve in an explosion of release.

This Time

(this was written in anticipation of a friend’s break-up)

I’ve got to go, I need to go, I have to go
I’ve got to go, I need to go, I have to go

With my face toward the sun, you are my warmth, you are my rock, you make me smile; I nestle into the comfort of your strength.

But when I turn back to the unknown, can I step into where it’s cold and dark? I’m afraid your smile will fade, your warmth will leave me; I will see you in a crowded room and weep.

I don’t know why; I do know I don’t want to; but

I’ve got to go, I need to go, I have to go
I’ve got to go, I need to go, I have to go

Oh, gods of destiny, send angels to catch us as we fall when I cut the cord that spills both our blood. This second is eternal as my hand is poised and I gaze into your eyes once more…

A Fresh One

Today is outrageous,
heat caressing like a cotton sarong,
sandals hanging loose, coloured toes emerging,
cicadas symphonising to every track lazily flowing from the stereo,
video clips roll past out of the corner of my eye,
the dog, my brand new mate, contentedly stretched out alongside while I type
supposedly working but instead brooding into the warm,
deliciously devouring the summer sunday afternoon lazy languor.
Today is outrageous,
beach air humidly hanging,
laid back tunes gently pumping,
percussions and bass laying a soothing rhythmic path,
song after song unfolding itself and melting away,
summer sunday afternoon.
Today is outrageously good,
loved ones absorbed in their own version of this day,
close in my heart though peppered around the map.
I am all-contained, leaning on the old wooden dining table,
rustic it’s called, meaning it needs to be sanded and re-surfaced,
white roses a gift from a friend to someone else
but fortuitously they need to stay at my place for a bit,
my old straw hat, so un-stylish but it’s so hard to get just the right hat
even after all these years…
Outrageous, unpretentious, sumptuous,   tacet,    tacet,    tacet,     pause