Tuesday, 12 February 2013
Come back for a coffee?
Go on through, he said.
Ignore my Dad.
I walk through Ishtar's gate. The first.
To expressive dysphasia
a slittered seemit
a flaccid penis exposed and vulnerable in his lap,
I enter unto Babel:
Talking book; Wagnerian rabble; the tv blaring.
I was not aware of shedding that first layer.
I thought instead of Brahma astride the swan.
Silenced the clamour in my heart.
Suppressed the urge to understand
And by imperfect comprehension, judge.
I do not see the penis when I light his cigarette.
We masquerade as conversationalists
Each inhalation substituting for a word,
whole sentences, a paragraph,
A dialogue of smoke.
Later, when the child is moored within,
When we two share the same cramped space,
When your son disappears to work,
And your sisters come with their
We stare at one another with dismay.