True

I will tell you something, not that it matters now. When we were not sleeping together the connection was just as strong. I was as much connected to your mind as well as your body. All those shared flights of intellectual fantasy meant as much as any multiple orgasm. So I didn't feel any less intimate. You clearly did and I'm sorry. You are the only one who has ever been a match for me. I miss our talks as much as the sex. Any dumb animal can fuck and say I love you but a connection of the mind is special and rare.  You have made me realise how stupid most people are, how banal, how mundane.
So yes I hate you. I will always hate you. You were the hate of my life and I will never hate anyone as much as I hate you. My soulmate, my one true hate. 

Sleep of Reason

"will you sleep with me?" you said
And I laughed
"we hardly know each other!"
"this will tell me all i
need to know" you said
And so we slept together
Chastely as children
I brought a nightdress
You wore pyjamas
I made cocoa
You read a book
I watched you
Liking the look of you
In glasses
Smelling of toothpaste and soap
And something else, daring
To lean against you
Hearing your heartbeat
I wake in the night to
Watch you, breathe you in
Urge in a whisper
Your heart to keep beating
For our sleep of reason

Deep Water

You tell me you cant swim
I tell you I can
Hold on to me
You say you will
To keep me happy
But your trust is sinking

A heart as big as yours
Should not be so easily drowned

Read in Tooth and Claw

I was as trusting
As any creature with claws
As vulnerable as any
Crustacean with a hard shell

When my expansive sea
Became a tank
I could not say, it was agreeable
With pretty plants, sustenance

Then the shock of blind metal
No room to turn or breathe
Rough hands, harsh voices
The hiss of flame beneath

Seared by scarlet degrees
My last thoughts of the open sea
Fathoms of oblivion
Mercy's blessed darkness

Not Quite Out of Reach

When I think of the smell of Mum it
Is not quite out of reach
It is her white cardigan with the roses I wish I had kept
It is the tiny cushion with an embroidered “R”
It is the bottle of Tweed perfume
It is the single red lipstick she had for years
It is the satin bag with the gold chain handle
It is the powder compact never used
It is the green coat she always wore
It is the cinnamon balls she made for Passover
It is the homemade burgers every weekend
It is matzobri at Granny’s and the smell of the gas fire

Mum's World

Mum’s world
was home baking when she was well
and Vesta chow mein when she wasn’t
Granny’s at the weekend
And chicken soup
Mum said I could be a
Bit of a madam sometimes
But she and Granny both
Liked my Mae West impression
Its not the men in my life
Its the life in my men
Mum said Dad didn’t have much life in him
And laughed and granny laughed and I laughed too
Even though I was only six
And didn’t know what she meant


There were different worlds
Mum’s world was about family
We visited Granny on the weekend and
Sometimes Auntie Reva and Uncle Harry
Would come up with cousin Howard
And me and my brother would whisper and giggle
Because cousin Howard talked funny and
Looked half asleep most of the time
And never played with us
No-one said what why except that he
Went to a special school

Auntie Reva was a bit too much
of a grown up for us and she would tell off
Uncle Harry when he sat on the floor
and played Cat’s Cradle with us
We liked Uncle Harry, he was full of army tales
And had funny teeth and a cheeky grin
You couldn’t imagine him and
Auntie Reva kissing or anything
and to this day
I still cant


At home we ate dad’s clumsy stir fries and
Mum’s burgers which
I always looked forward
To and I got upset when
My friend Lisa came up
For tea one night and said she didn’t like them
I didn’t invite her up again

The year I won the Cup in Cheder
I made my Mum proud
Especially since I beat Clara Massie
Mum said, the look on her mother’s face!

At Granny’s we became Jewish again
With eager trips for food
Kleinbergs for eggloaf greedily guzzled
Picklemeat placating me as I stirred the
butchers sawdust into circles with a bored foot
kneidlich floating in chicken soup
matzobri thrilling yellow on the plate
salting before that first saliva-flood bite
cinnamon balls and coconut pyramids
Passover Pesach and the rituals of Hannuka
Egg and the symbolic blood
Matzo crackers embraced in cloth
Grandpa in his yarmulkeh intoning the brochah
The wine passed round and the candles lighting
Up our faces as the ancient tales were told

Tidal

All that we were is gone
And grief ebbs and flows
I try to stay constant
but I am made of sand
drowned and drained
Time and again
By that ninth wave
Time will not loose
these tender memories
Tide cannot wash
These tears away