Sunday, 29 January 2012

Some Of These Things

'Golden Chain', oil and egg tempera on canvas by Olivia Irvine

Some of These Things

Imagine some of these things
Not just the glint of a hard, blue glacier
Nor the curl of wrought iron on a bench by the Seine
Not even the haunting music from a pink house,
Chanced upon on a midnight walk
But old, blotched walls
A carpet, faded and worn
A diving platform, a broken parasol, a creaky hinge
And a heart drawn hastily on a greasy window

Imagine and be there
Where the bright leaves dance in the tangled dell
And the rose trellises carve out spaces in the sky
Stay a while and touch the smooth, orange beacons
Left by lopped off branches on the crumbly trunks
Open the cupboard where the imaginary thing lives
Hit that soaring, plastic shuttlecock

Maybe you once had the shell I put in my pocket for a while
Sat on that same lonely, stony shore
And swung on that same peeling gate

Even so
I want to show you the actual tent poles and the signposts
The spotted dresses, the lampposts, the trodden path
I want you to see for yourself
The exact spot we hid the treasure

Feel for yourself the curl of the fine chain on your hand
The drag of a bag on the floor
The soft folds of that curtain drawn aside

Hear the ringing ankle bells
The buffeting whip of a kite
And the crisp turning of another page

Olivia Irvine               January 2012

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