LIZ WINFIELD

Two poems

First thoughts

a peaceful night
a holiday in bed
pain anaesthetised
no dreams
joints tingle
fools gold pain
tricks me into moving

Coffee and panadeine forte

The waking is hard
opening the sliding door to morning
hurts
right through the chest
this bone's joined to that

and the question is
how few pills can I take
to stay out of bed

like my old collie
each rising is like a new born foal's
but we move in diminishing circles
more slowly each day

we listen for each other's breathing
as he follows my presence
outside beneath my windows
he is a working dog

still

the day closes in
like muggy weather
what will it take to be saved
for one more day?

ask the children

the kid is old enough
to pass for older

yell to her brother
across the wire

walk the tightrope
of love

get a taste for
persecution

not to believe
in mirrors

or the beauty
of self opening doors
and barbed wire
in the sun

she knows
there's a reason
why the sky's
blue

she's gonna dance
the length
of being
watched

leave finger prints on glass
and hold it all inside

ask the children
what justice means