Would it have been better
If the lift had not again been broken?
If I had not met ‘my shadow rising to meet me’
As I climbed
Round and round
The spiral staircase
Like a zombie teddy bear,
Sounds of
Footsteps echoing into an apocalyptic future that has
Already happened
To which no machine can abbreviate the journey
No knife slice a shortcut,
Hasten life
To its destined destination
That, really, anyway is endless,
As irresistible and illogical as a heart that loves,
Steps of stone
That lead not to heaven or temptation
But to air that poisons us as we breathe it:
Banal crucifixion,
A Jesus bought in Lidl,
Cheap as frozen oven chips.
Call it murder, if you like,
Or call it sacrifice.
Would it have been better
If I had not seen a woman of
– I assume –
African descent
Struggling
Round and round
The spiral staircase
An angel with amputated wings
Dragging the burden of a womb
Hers but not hers,
It seemed
Heavy,
Pregnant with history:
Unjust oppression,
Violence unasked for and undeserved,
Mighty perseverance
Dreams of delivering on some mountain top with Martin Luther King –
Somewhere better
Something more than
A supermarket shopping aisle,
Discounted prices,
Satisfaction guaranteed,
The paradise of pound land or
An empty plastic bag
Or just no-thing.
Would it have been better if,
Walking past
Grateful to be carrying only
My light bike,
Round and round the spiral staircase
Resembling or reassembling ‘such a lovely boy’
What my mum said I was
Once
Remembering
As I write
How, chest puffed up, all proud,
I used to sing out high and loud
My Christmas party piece
The little donkey who carried Mary safely on her way –
Would it have been better if,
To ease her load,
I had not said
‘Not far to go now’?
Did it even matter
When
EarPod deaf
She only saw me speak
And paused to shout
‘I was not prepared for this!’?
Would it have been better if
I had concluded that we were all one,
The lift that did not work not broken
Part of the pattern
This fight with brevity:
Round and round
Up and down
Falling flying
Footsteps echoing
Kaleidoscope of light and gravity
Spiral stairs
Leaking Thames
Rising damp
Exhausted moths
Kerosene lamp
None of us prepared?
There but barely there at all.
And, looking back,
I wonder whether
One ‘reason’ why
My ‘bike’ weighs less
Is that the hair shirt I bought in Primark
To bear the burden
Of a nightmare I begged others to dream for me
Was so heavy that I did not wear it,
Gave it to the little donkey,
To all creatures great and small
That were not me
Numbed his heart with things
Made and paid for by
Collateral damage, externalities,
Bags of sweeties
From his mummy and his daddy,
A child, really, writing words he did not author,
Dead
Like Elon Musk and President Trump
A baby doll dressed up in big boys clothes
Pretending to be free?
Would it have been better if I had worn that shirt myself instead?
(Shrugs and leaves a pause). I don’t know. May-be.
Yes To All Of It 