POETRY

by Stephen Pain

AMERICA

I found myself like two continents
with their hands tied behind 
their backs, Am I America, Am I Europe,
and the waters splashed on either side.

I walk ahead
with two histories dancing behind me
mother an Audrey Hepburn look-a-like
wearing a black dress and pearls
a sphinx, breaths down my neck
warm secrets, I cannot read,
I come across a wreck:

the cargo
amphorae some broken, some intact,
some mossy green, some deep sea blue,
some with handles, some without,
I look inside one and all of a sudden
I pull out my childhood heroes,
the Lone Ranger and Jay Silverheels,
alias Tonto.

Within a moment I am on the back of
Silver galloping away from the sandy
monument, the salty spray of the
Atlantic combs my hair as my mother
did before we went to the cinema.
I clutch hold tight of the masked man.
We ride and ride towards my America.

The hooves of our horses sound out a Sanskrit
prayer as we ride and ride across the seabed,
over unknown aquatic mountains, past sunken treasures
like the prow of a Greek ship; like the crew of
a German submarine: one the bronze head of a boar
covered in barnacles, one the home of fish
flitting in and out of the dark tabernacles.
We ride and ride towards my America.


REFLECTIONS ON JANUARY

Look back a week or so
at how you threw up Christmas
and had an inordinately heavy
hangover on New Year's Day.

Look forward to writing an essay
on adverse possession or ministerial
irresponsibility--so this is January.

Two-headed month, deformed God,
thirty or so days of duplicity,
two years in tow: one in the memory,
and of course one to go.

The snow came as November
promised, and the butterflies
peacocks and the painted ladies
made it through two weeks before
the cold snap hit them hard:
one plaintive flap, and they spun
to a carpet death: What else?

The car broke down twice,
and Watts came out with Gary
who has the habit of showing
his bum cleavage;started in reverse
just like the month, January,
and the starter reconditioned --
well who's got cash, Nice One!
was duff-- and the Datsun Stanza
broke down again, enough said
about the car.

Look on these days of drab grey,
like hours spent in the old Woolworth's
restaurant drinking one cup of cold tea,
and waiting for the old dears to slowly
depart.


OFF THE ROAD

                I

   In the river overturned
   A car half submerged
how the occupants died has now slowly emerged.


                II

    He played Hamlet to her
    Ophelia in the water
a deep melancholy led to one more beer


                III
     
      They had an argument
     about what was important
She had earlier told him she was pregnant.


                IV

        She was responsible
        He was gullible
and believing his friends he drank himself insensible.


                V
       
         Later he would be in debt
         He would take up car theft
 For there was no man who could survive on income support.


                VI

          So there went his freedom
          How could fucking Life condemn
  a man because he didn't use a bloody condom?


                 VII
           
           She was about to leave
           He grabbed her by the sleeve
  They left, some punters wondered "Is he fit to drive?"


                  VIII

             And the car left the road
             when he was about to reload
   his favourite cassette by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.