Listening, Unquietly, to “Sonata for Cello and Piano”

(as I Scratch Pictures Alive)

… I need you to leave me… forever,
whilst Henriëtte Bosmans’
MAGIC… valleys the room
… in kite-swoops, and sinister-arcs.
Of course, it’s raining,
it’s absolutely pissing-it-down
… but, I want Thunder,
and the hollowness
of Giant’s mourning the word “Nooo”.
Wet prison-denim legs,
and a rowing boat
arrowing quickly, and silently
towards a terrible… Escape.
She’s coughed up a decent sized chunk
of her ‘Innocence’
… and hidden it inside
the Scarecrow’s chest…
but We were out watching the Battle
of the Mad, March Hares
and witnessed her desperate attempt
at saving herself… from field’s edge.
That Gate will never hold back
all of that Anger…
and God’s House is never in order…
so long as there are motherless children
bedding down amongst the coal.
Quicker footsteps are needed, my dear
… or they’ll have us before we start.
To frown, cracked Bible leather,
over a Table Of Correspondences,
with anxious, desperate sleeves
rolled-up into a Fright…
whilst rejecting,
by kicking-away furiously,
the tight, velvet-slither
of possible healing and forgiveness
… is pudding-proof
that ‘Negativity’ Roosts rather than Dies.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.