RESPONSES

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An Ordinary Night in the Muscular Arms

There was gliding downstairs and a gold silk skirt swirling

around my feet, blown up and wavering at my movements

and Bowie pounding his Jean Genie out from the walls filling

my skinny soul with the impossible fantastic dream of this me

barely eighteen, a queen in a bar, in charge of the smallest

lounge searching for a bottle of pink gin that didn't exist – all

I knew was the longing for glamour in a cheap skirt that held me

entranced, dancing with David in the world, letting go-go-go.

11th Jan 2016

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GREEN DRAGONS

I’m not a tiny green dot on Scotland’s
fresh face; I’m over a million people
who are neither deaf nor dumb, and we will
make a great cacophony in this house
if there isn’t a better service here.
Hear us roar. We walked and marked our crosses.
You can’t measure us by geography
because our land is also walked by trees
and we people salt the land in clusters
hundreds of miles from that parliament who
consumes our souls in ignorance but it’s
not a case of ‘They know not what they do’.
Their wee politician brains are fully
stuffed with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

19th Sep 2014​

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