dead cat

this cat is dead

not quite

but almost

sitting hunkered

on the arm of the settee

beside me

tilting slowly into sleep

these griddled ribs

when stroked

play questions

and knife blade nubs

of vertebrae

grate

my puzzled fingers

how

has she grown

this old

this ill?

and when

did I realise

who had previously denied it

that I will miss her

and her tufting pelt

that floats

in strewn plumes

and seeks my mouth

nose

eyes?

for soon the slits

of her pupils

will cramp tight

and the soft wheezing

of her flanks

will flatten

in the afternoon

Chris on Souncloud

One Careful Höhner

For Sale

One Harmonica

in the key of

B Flat

While it remains in very good condition

this Harmonica

could probably use a little tlc

eg

a buffing with the soft yellow cloth

also included in the sale

for it has been neglected

in its case

far too long.

It has to be stated

that there are

one

or two

abrasions to the chrome

(as a result

one might imagine

of the instrument having been

dropped

and possibly trodden on.)

The teeth marks on

the upper and lower surfaces

do not effect the playing tone

although

the new owner may detect

a slight metallic

bitterness

on inhaling through

the instrument’s reedy carcass.

The current owner

no longer has a need for this

that was when purchased

a fine instrument

one that he had considered suitable

for the playing of

airs and graces

of romantic melodies

melancholy

and seductive lullabies.

He was however

mistaken

and that which he considered

beautiful

seems to have created

an opposite impression

on another

who has subsequently decided

that she prefers

the rather more

vulgar vibe

created by a banjo

And so

For Sale

One Harmonica

to anyone who can spare

thirty pieces

ono.

Also:

A vacancy has occurred

for a Harmonica player

with the small country folk trio

“Banjomonica.”

surprised by a mermaid

if you were to touch me now

without warning

and while I am unprepared

if you were to slip up beneath me

submerged

and make unexpected contact

I would shiver

and recoil

and shake your hand from my clammy shoulder

and offer some guttural rejection

caught in a throat full of sea

and

I would shudder under your grey fingers

I who did not see you approach

and am unused to the approach

of any other

and especially of a one such as you

at this time of day

alone

and naked

and unaware

caught in the anger of the sea

fretting in this mighty undertow

if you were to touch me now

without warning

while I am unprepared

but

if you were to touch me

now

having given me this moment‘s pause

and now knowing what I now know

of this dry earth and its dead dust

I would gracefully

sink into the ocean of your arms

float on the soft spume of your briny breath

swim into the abyss of your wide-eyed words

hide under the swell of your limpid breasts

moor myself to the holdfast strands

of your sargasso hair

Chris reading Surprised By A Mermaid

Surprised By A Mermaid now appears in The Wrting Garden - Issue 8

Windowsills

Picturesque Valley Road, Heeley

These are

things

people have
on windowsills

on Valley Road

and some on 
Brooklyn

a sleeping cat
in black and white

two small dogs,

barking at me

and then at each other

an empty vase

like a large

upended aubergine

a stained glass tablet
propped against the pane
featuring
a church
beneath

an abstract sunset

a blue acrylic dragon
breathing
red acrylic fire
from its nostrils

another cat

mackerel
also sleeping

an alabaster sculpture
four inches tall

that gives the impression

of a couple embracing
two round heads
and encircling arms

a scrap of paper with

a shopping list
written in a ragged hand
in blue pen
including bacon
bread
and butter

a sticker sign 
that has peeled from the glass
warning that

all 
our belongings

have been

postcode protected

a dead moth
lying on its back
with
its legs approaching
the air 
from beneath

a tray
of leggy seedlings
leaning towards
the sunlit street

Fudged

Squatting on the upturned box, Johnson dragged his holdall across the wooden floorboards towards him and pulled out a crumpled white paper bag.

“Here, squire, do you wanna bit of fudge?”

The other man did not appear to break his meditation.

            “Take your mind off, like…”

“Thanks, but no thanks.  I don’t actually want my mind ‘taken off’.”

“A bit of fudge won’t hurt, though.  I say, a bit of fudge won’t hurt.  Like a bit of fudge, me.  It’s the sugar.  Instant hit, it gives you.  Keeps you alert, like.  Right on the money.  Always have a bit of fudge on me, y’know, for that instant hit, if I’m feeling a bit dopey or whatever.  Go on, have a bit.”

The other man slowly opened his eyes.

“Really, no thanks.”

“It’s coffee flavoured – you like coffee. That’s a good pick me up, too, isn’t it? Coffee.  Sets you right on your feet.”

“Have you checked recently?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve checked, I’ve checked.  No need to worry about that.  They’re not due yet, anyhow.  I keep me eye out, y’know.  I’ve got eyes like a proverbial, I have.”

“Yes, but have you checked recently?”

“I.. I.. I’ll check now – set your mind at rest.  We don’t want to miss the moment as it were, do we, the crucial moment.  That would be a shame now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.  So check.”

“All right, all right, don’t get ‘em twisted!  Look I’m checking, I’m checking..”

Johnson went over to the window and edged back one side of the grey blanket that he had hung across it some hours previously.  He peered down into the street below.

“Nah!  There’s no sign.  No sign of nothin’.  No sign of nobody.  Yeah, Ali, wouldn’t be best pleased if we missed the moment, would he?  Hahaha!”

“Just keep your eyes on that corner.”

“Will do, squire, will do.  I’m a tea man m’self.  Always have been.  You don’t drink tea, do you?  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink a cuppa tea.  Not into tea, are you?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Coffee, that’s you, isn’t it.  Black coffee, isn’t it.  My old mum used to say, you can’t trust a coffee drinker.  Tea’s an honest drink, she’d say.  Always liked her tea, my mum.  Don’t think she’d have liked you much, tbh.  Ha!  Mind you she’d ha’ been right, wouldn’t she, eh?  Not trusting you, eh?  She’d ha’ been right on the money with that one, eh?  Hahaha!  Cuh!  Don’t know what she’d have made of this mullarkey, I really don’t.  This is a fine fandango!”

“Johnson! Will you just quit your yap and concentrate on the situation.”

“’Course, squire, ‘course I will.  You won’t hear another word.  Not another word.”

“Thank you!”

Johnson fell silent.

He peered again around the edge of the scruffy drape.

            “Sorry, squire, I always talk a lot if I’m a bit on edge. D’y’know what I mean?  Always getting in trouble for it at school.  Keep your trap shut, Johnson!  That’s what I got all the time.  Shut it!  Couldn’t help meself, though, even when I knew I was winding ‘em up.  The teachers, like.  Couldn’t help meself.  Ohh, hangabout.  Something’s happening, something’s afoot, as they say!  Better get over here – owh...”

His companion was already pushing him aside, taking control of the window and assessing the situation below them.  The bolt action rifle had been in position, sights checked, within fifteen minutes of their arrival, but as Johnson moved to get out of the way he tripped over his holdall and as he did so launched the small bag of fudge across the room.  Johnson snatched at the air to try to grab it but managed simply to bat it with greater force towards the gun.  He fell against the other man with a considerable force, and was instantly deafened by a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass

He managed to regain control of his body as he heard a cracking thud from the street below - something heavy landing on the roof of a car - and then the sound of the wind flapping the blanket at the now empty casement.

match day

The crowds are out

it’s match day

and Bramall Lane draws

a constant current

of stripeshirted men

boys

scarved women

girls

A’Salt and Battered

is queued up

down the road

never seen it so busy

selling chips by the galleon

I’m against the flow

and he spots me yards off

as he climbs the street

past the Cremorne

till we coincide

outside cake‘r’us

he raises his left hand

in a high five salute

a black guy

about forty five

says

how’re ya doin?

we’re passing nearside and

instinctively

I raise my left hand

to give him back the greeting

it can’t hurt

he’s perhaps a little

squiffy

but

ah, he’s got me

holds onto my hand

now engulfed

within his

cold dry palm

a bricklayer’s hand perhaps

smooth calloused skin

It’s been a long time, he says

has it? I smile

you don’t remember?

oh, say I, no

do I know you?

you don’t remember?

I don’t think so

where do I know you from?

you tell me, he says

I can’t think… down south somewhere?

that’s it

London?

that’s right

funny, I say

I don’t remember at all

oh yes, says he

oh yes

he’s got me eye to eye

you know what I’m doing now?

he licks his tongue

around the gaps in his front teeth

soft and wet

er, an electrician? 

I hazard

I'm enjoying the cheek of it

no, I’m on the streets

I’m sleeping on the streets

oh no, really, where?

car park at end o’t Moor

oh

y’know what? he says

what?

I’ve been out since nine o’clock

nine o’clock this morning

just trying to get three pounds

for something to eat

just three pounds

just for something to eat

he looks at me full frontal

I hate to ask, he says

oh, right, I say

let me… er…

he let’s go of my hand

so I’m fiddling in my pockets now

just looking for something

my change purse

something

I find a penny

I’d picked

off the pavement earlier

but a penny’s not enough

he’s got me on his hook now

there’s no wriggling free

can’t find it anywhere though

so the bag comes off my back

and I’m rooting around

where’s my bloody change purse

God, I hate this

nope not in my bag

test my pockets again

and there it is

I hate to ask, he says

I tip the contents into my hand

two two pence pieces

a waitrose trolley token

and a two pound coin

I give it a last wistful look

as I drop it in his outstretched hand

I hate to ask, he says

well that’ll get you started

I say

that’ll get you started

he looks me in the eye again

takes my hand in his

in a formal handshake

I’m very grateful

he says

very grateful

No worries

no worries

look after yourself

Bless you sir

bless you

and I walk off 

smiling

and feeling slightly

mugged

Lucy laughs at Marek

At the foot of

Shirebrook Road

two ten year old girls sit

on the steps of the house

that once used to be the old

Mini Motorparts Shop

they watch a boy

dancing bad parcour

around the yellow

municipal grit bin

girl two is giggling

at the boys looping

tumbles

girl one says

ok Marek

you made Lucy laugh

you made Lucy laugh

but you’ll never make me laugh

Marek

you’ll never make me laugh

Lucy in her

leopard skin dress

continues her giggle

and Marek continues

his dance