The muggy afternoon invites the evening in
For its release

Heavy, ripe clouds long to burst
And spill their pearly fruits
On the city.

Thirsty soil and twitching grass.
Eyes search the darkening sky,
Wondering when the showers will come.

Until the low rumble,
The spitting and spotting
Of fat drops on the pavements

Becomes a gushing monsoon
That washes the sweaty heat
Into the gutters

Leaving the smell of hot wet roads
And damp leaves dripping.

Prologue:
As I walked up Gray’s Inn Road, the rain came down in thick streams. The dampness working its way through the inadequate jacket that I had borrowed from my Mum’s coat rack.

I heard a slap and looked down to find the box of overpriced, organic salad that I had bought at the train station had fallen through the bottom of the paper bag, its contents of grated beetroot and carrot spilling on the paving stones.

I was late. I was hungry. The baby strapped to my chest had raindrops running down his cheeks. And, I was on my way to have root canal surgery for the second time in a week.

———————

Heavy swing of doors
Shoes squeak on lino
Low buzz of voices

Papers rustle as he scribbles notes
With a fountain pen

My clothes slide on the vinyl
Chair reclines to horizontal

“Just a scratch”
Needle pierces my gum
Ice spreads through my jaw

“Have a rinse round”
I wash out the metallic anaesthetic
With powdery, pink swill of mouthwash
From a plastic cup

Rubber sheet fitted over my tooth
Gags me like a hostage
Smells strangely sweet
Like shopping mall cookie dough

The microscope looms over me
A large, staring, electronic eye
In the corner of my vision
Black and white x-ray films
Illuminated on a light box

The strip light overhead has fused
A large round clock marks
the slow
minutes
passing

Metal instruments glint
Lowered into my mouth
By latex-gloved hands

The ultrasonic drill squeals
Like a knife edge on stone
Files inserted and turned
With a squeaky
Rough
Twist

Chlorine smell of the injected liquid
“Paper points – Size forty”
In out, in out
Jaw aching
Drilling
Hydrochloride
“Paper points”
In out, in out
Again and again
Again and again

Until
Furrowed brow
Hushed words over radiographs
Shaking heads

“Dress the tooth”
Concrete paste smeared into the hole
Chair raised to vertical
Head prickling
Throbbing

“I’m afraid it has not been possible
To locate the canal.”

A stretch of sky.
My thoughts drop into shadow.
I can no longer beat my wings,
Standing at the edge of this cliff,
Far below, a sea,
Into which I am about to fall.

I feel the fear of the fall,
Grope around for a hold on the sky.
Can I stop myself dropping into the sea?
No, I am sucked under by shadow.
Losing my foothold on the cliff,
Alone and weak in the wings.

The ache in my wings
Makes the fall
inevitable. The cliff
cuts the sky,
casts a shadow
on the depths of the sea.

Am I already in the sea,
With the waves flapping my wings?
Here there is no fear of shadow:
I have nowhere to fall,
Enveloped by the sky,
But a memory of the cliff.

Hanging on to the cliff
edge; I have tasted the safety of the sea.
Squinting into the sky,
Found strength in my wings
to brave the fall
and slip from the grip of shadow.

I come to you with my shadow
in my hands, from the tip of the cliff.
Share my tale of the fall,
my release in the sea.
You take me in your wings
as we gaze at the sky.

The shadow always dances on the cliff
Tempting me to fall through the sky
But in the sea, I spread my wings.

Wanted to pop it out
on the page:
Painless,
Perfectly formed.
But it takes time
and patience
to slowly shape it
into something
rhythmic and whole.

Two minds,
two hearts,
two bodies.
A spark,
A beginning.

A tunnel of love:
Walls of nurture,
studded with jewels,
spiked with fears,
A ceiling of trust and knowing.
Enter a maiden
Emerge a mother
Body grows into shape of woman.

And you,
a question mark
curled around a beating heart;
A mystery,
a new start
Evolving in the deepest part
of my belly.

You lie, you turn
you kick, you swim.
Your limbs draw lines
inside my skin.

Awaiting the sweet taste
of your arrival.

Their eyes flash like fireflies
In the darkness
And draw out the spirits of the dead
From the leaf mulch
That carpets the ground
Beneath their bare feet.

Clawing at the moonlight
An eagle’s beak turns
And soars down
Into the depths of the forest
Searching for a thin, pink life
To snatch up and tear open.

The forest is dark, full of shadows
And monsters’ eyes that twitch and blink
Mouths opening to reveal black tongues
Over sharp, pointed teeth.

Wolves howl like distant trains
Leaves curled like folded bats’ wings
Over roots and squashed berries
That bleed blue on the ground
Colour seeping into the fibrous soil.

It boils, the cauldron
And spits venom at those
Who gaze over
Its fiery lip.

A shell curled round a string
Like a forgotten thing
A talisman
Of ancient wonderings

The platinum waves
curl in, crash and crumble.
A fleck of spray
lands on my lip,
(the Earth’s spittle).
Wind blows my hair
into a frenzy.

Can you feel it, Little Bean?
Feel the tide rocking,
the stones humming.
From the safety
of your cell, your shell,
Can you feel it?

The road full of fallen
branches and stones.
Bare skin of toes
Pierced
by jagged shards
of wood and flint.

Though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
that clawed at my throat,
threw my hair up to the sky,
howled down the canals
of my ears,
I walked on.
Steady purpose burning
between my eyebrows.

And there came a new voice
singing,
breaking through the sharp
edge of night.
It kept me company,
curled itself around
my fears
like a cat
with a warm belly.

The skin
of the soles of my feet
thickening, strengthening.
Footsteps carving a path
through the debris
of fallen cities.

The song, burning
like the stars
through the sheets of cloud,
linking me
to a deeper melody
that murmurs
beneath the vast stretch
of ocean.