Sunday, 15 February 2015

Give Me Stories

Give me stories
Open narratives of other lives
Met the hands, and chest, and teeth
Of little child below the crib
The uncertain duels of breath and sleep.

Give me stories
The insistent feed
Of eyes upon the coloured myths
Of animals with human limbs
In which the monstrous is sold as sweet.

Give me stories
In the speech, began as grief
Then moved to mime
I could capture what I could not see
Play with truth, and love, and time.

Give me stories
Stocking-feet, the comedy of human error
Would send me walking down the street
The eyes of each
Another mirror.

Give me stories
Getting better, a phrase resigned for certain times
 Like not drawing  on the teachers duty
Writing lies in straight
Straight lines.

Give me stories
Overnight, I witnessed one long marriage end
Adolescence covered the other half
The chapters love, and luck
And friends.

Give me stories
I asked of them, and after
Begged for something more
Give me tales of love, a lease
Of a portion to call my own
-         -  Please.

Give me stories
Manners formed, as did chapter headings
And a title
Introduced as then ‘unstable’
Storybook arms to give an eyeful.

Give me stories
Gloried nights, in false embraces
And resentment
The indents that my hands still haunt
Tracing points of old remembrance.

Give me stories
The way you talk, your shape of face
Moves me for a while
I disappear in the fiction of your vision
Envision the subject of your smile.

Give me stories
For I cannot object
The desperate journalist
Haunted by momento mori
Black and white, a page and text
And I crying

Give me stories.

No comments:

Post a Comment