lyrics | fictions | episodes ©Edwin Best, 2013-2017
that cloud
on the edge of the cliff
from the coastal path
like the head of the patriarch
only a flimsy thing
that soon blows over
leaving clear day
and little else of meaning
on the headland
where we leave eggshells
for the birds
and scatter
sorry
I meant to show you something special
when conversation became difficult
I made for the shelter of the trees
looking back across the sun-bleached field
to where the party was in full swing
appreciating the amplitude of tall silences
that I could navigate more easily
from there I could see you slowly circling
coming to rest
before finally heading out
navigation
ascertaining a position
calculating the most favourable route
between one point and another
even when there is no point at all
navigation
just moving around
it takes skill
practice
finesse
when even gentle waters
can seem treacherous
safer amid trees
they don’t move around
at least don’t appear to
I whispered a quiet thank you
and plotted a course back
we sang harsh songs to each other
made our strange movements in the shrill
air
at last descending to low complaint
that found no forgiveness
anywhere
I would have painted grass green for you
my heart forever
scorned
now can’t paint sky without cloud
nor put sun there to offer
warmth
hard to reconcile as evening gathers in
only a child could do that
as only a child
will
the sky grows ever crazier
in bewildering
display
a murmuration of starlings that with darkness
falls away
we drift around each other
like intelligent dust
picking up after ourselves
these moods and frailties
until we sleep
and
let the real work of dust begin
There are undulations in the field
this morning – craters,
and further along
large fissure-like wounds
have opened up,
caused by who knows what.
Subsidence – someone offers.
Tremor – says another.
Love – mutters a stranger,
only love can cause
such devastation.
[first posted 29 May 2014]
table 1: a table for two
somewhere
in some far-off
corner of the earth
upon a broad green leaf
a butterfly is emerging
from the chrysalis
a glory to the world
dazzling wild
free
and that
is how it feels
to enter a crowded
restaurant – find you
at a table reading
and see there is
an empty chair
for me
table 2: a separate table
you ignored me last night
I’m ignoring you today
I’m at a separate table
a thousand miles away
shall we order?
table 3: ready to order
I won’t have a starter
I don’t eat dessert
I shan’t have a mains
I hurt hurt hurt
I can’t take rejection
but I can take a hint
just bring another bottle
and a wafer thin mint
table 4: menu
today
a stranger wore my shoes
choked down the morning news
ordered the wrong food
alone at a table for two
but it was me
who chatted to you so freely
over the menu
and died a little more
before the coffee
table 5: two types of silence
I sit alone at dinner
listening to the couple
at the next table
who hardly speak at all
you clear your throat
ask me to get the bill
there are as many
different types of silence
as there are colours
on a paint chart
probably more
here are two
table 6: table talk
two apples in a bowl
got us wondering
how we’d go
between two breaths
between two tides
before the pudding
has arrived
we were chatting
over dinner
you said
I was looking thinner
I said
rotten talk for supper
on the garden I’ll be scattered
if I have a soul at all
it falls just as the apple falls
to ground
we drank our fill
I paid the bill
a silent walk
table talk
