Paul Summers

 

 

hamstrung

 

 

there are ghosts

in the safety glass,

 

obese & smile-less,

& vaguely familiar;

 

trapped like fossils

in cages of nostalgia.

 

choking on nuggets

of lethargic vowels,

 

a brood of pale biddies

moan about weather,

 

a toddler is hamstrung

by the weight of a nappy;

 

& somewhere between

them, an irreparable union.

 

 

haven

christmas island, december 2010

 

 

heavy now as ballast lead, a weightless

baby drifts from vision. wide-eyed but

 

lifeless, melting in the twilight of expanding

depth. she waves in the drag of undertow &

 

saturated lungs. each gilded globe of fleeing

breath seeks refuge in the cusp of sky & sea.

 

each fragile bauble of misplaced hope exploded

in the tensions of a rolling swell. & heavy now

 

as ballast lead, their empty hearts grow cold

& dead. all dreams defunct in waking terror.

 

they melt into expanding depth. their muted

eyes accuse, though lacking any focus; they fix

 

like cadavers on points of consensus, their pupils

pulled like moths towards the light upon the hill.

 

 

 

Paul Summers © 2012