Poetry and Masks

by Christina Conrad
© 2001
Click On Pictures to Enlarge

[swollen mattress]

the old house hid behind
a barbary hedge
spiky with thorns
squatting on a stony mound
humming
in a high seething voice
under a leaking
pie-shaped
roof

peeling walls exposing
fleshy slabs of blushing wood
baked by sun
lit by moon
her gloating cracks
seeping
sticky with sap

stark naked windows
revealing
shadowy figures

chimney pitching
into sky’s
netted rose

an ancient lemon tree
bearing
stiff-nippled lemons
hung in grey lichen
ghost trees walked

the gate
heavy with memories
tied together with string
legs
sunk
into earth

under a fading green lintel
a broken door swung
door knob
rattling in socket
big iron key
stuck
in keyhole

one fell into
a dim
spidery hallway
colliding with
a full-bellied
brandy barrel
stuffed with
dried figs
in long yellow wooden boxes
dried bananas
pressing close
as sardines

the interior of the house was
cool - deep
a pentagonal room
struck by oblique light
the black gasping fireplace
full of thin white arms
of wood

the yearning floor
heaved
shimmered
one groped over
knots – veins
fell
in & out
of
holes

beneath the crossed window
a black iron bedstead
stood on taut legs
bearing a swollen mattress
and
3 wheezing
feather quilts

[spray gun]
(for mr n)

every two years you paint
your car silver
same colour as the sardine tins
i coveted as a child

the key
always
got stuck
in the sardine tin

you park your car
outside my bedroom window
you shut my bedroom window
you nail paint rags across the glass

my bedroom
is
plunged in darkness
outside you rattle your spray gun
the smell of turpentine pierces memory

i grope in darkness

i remember how i first saw you
your tail of gold hair
your coat of corduroy
i was on heat
with a proclivity for crushes

you led me on
hastening away
at crucial point

a friend, startled by my obsession with you informed my mother

she said
you always get crushes on men
you live in a dream world
this time you shall face reality

outside my bedroom door
your spray gun rattles
sweet almonds
(a song for stoneking)

sweet almonds are cheap here
the lady will grind the nuts
wearing 2 blind watches
&
a broken ring

where last i dwelt
almonds were expensive
bitter

sweet almonds are cheap here
the lady will grind the nuts
wearing 2 blind watches
&
a broken ring