Grandpoems

Full Up

There is no shame in dining alone

because you’ll never be the only one

with a head full of tide

and a lung full of hum

to roll over that tongue with.

Grand

I

He was once the tallest policeman who knew how to be unafraid,

and now, still wearing a tie, he’s all dressed in beige,

standing alone out the front of a house that whispers,

painting the air with a wave that says,

‘I think of you every day.’

Ten years ago today, a child with a wonky smile,

I watched him crumble –

hands trembling in the hands of my mother

who has her mother’s hands.

His tie was there, and his hair, to match his expression,

was neatly flattened.

I couldn’t help but stare –

hope to never be consumed by a love such as his;

a love that should so completely,

so violently happen.

II

Ten years ago today I would have known you better

if it hadn’t have been for my oblivious age.

I’ve heard tell of times when you couldn’t leave the house

and I wonder when I’m stuck inside

if it’s you who might have been able to explain why

I sometimes can’t help but hide.

If I’d known we were to grow so alike

I could have asked you questions,

prepared for these lonely hibernations.

I’ve got you buried in my bones and,

some say, on the end of my nose,

and don’t worry about your village policeman

because each day I’m tugging on the string

between our tin cans.

Twenty-Oh-Four

This is the room where we couldn’t finish our homework

because we were too busy learning eye contact.

Here, dizzy on my dad’s homemade wine,

the colour of Ribena, dangerous as gin,

we slept dead until Sundays began to darken,

to find all of our friends had gone home hours ago.

We played hide and seek

with words we believed only existed written down;

here we learned what our mouths are for,

both the escape route and the cage.

This is the room in which we thought we were growing old,

where we got stuck on one another

in chequered pyjamas

before I could grab a hold.

This dandelion sky

is fooling me into thinking

that if I could just jump far enough to high five a cloud

I’d get a mouthful of that sweet smelling powder

my grandmother wore until the day she died.