a mother and son selfie
suddenly
there is beauty beyond
being beautiful
together is teetering
upon time’s tearing
of their tethering apart
which is the beautiful part
of today forging tomorrow’s
broken heart
1955 ~ a gipsy calls
like autumn
she came to the door
cross-my-palm-with-silver
(my mother reiterated to me)
as she brought in the fist
of wooden pegs
and her quizzical look
(reiterating her fortune told)
i glimpsed the gold earring rings
the dark curled locks spilling
either side of a bronzed face
the gold red bandana scarf
and a strange accent retreating
with the jangle of her bracelets
into next time
i never did find the sparkle
that was missing from her eyes
or understand the dread that followed her
out of the village
martyn
between the spring tides
when the lifeguards arrived
and the autumn tides
when the lifeguards departed
he was dead
rough today we said
standing
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