Visions fade like fingerprints,
I could give you an overview of my life,
a summary of what’s happened so far,
in so far as I can remember.
First was the birth, of course,
in hindsight relatively painless,
there were screams, but
nothing.
There were the obligatory celebrants,
paid nods to smile and offer praise,
in words taken from digital graffiti
& the margins of the soul.
The days were jewels
encrusted in shite,
the polish out of reach on
the top shelf behind the poisons.
If I read 7 as an angle,
somewhat acute,
though school would teach me obtuse
then 77 is
a parallel
(paradigm).
So, a man lived his life
in the shadow of a dream,
the silhouette pressed
against the white walls of expectations,
but nothing a can of paint
and wide brush couldn’t fix.
When the vultures are summoned
to pick at your bones
and fly into the sun,
will you have found what
you thought
you should be
looking for.
First published in The Wonder Book, 3 January 2013
