Loop
The pieces of two people
sit on a sofa
either side untouched teas
sit on strategically placed coasters
each one breathes out when they’re supposed to
the way it’s always been
the whole scene
some sort of ‘could’ve been’ poster
One of them wears an out-of-date suit
while Billie Holliday’s ‘Strange Fruit’
stays on a loop
and seems to creep from the speakers
the 1970’s cabinet against the wall
holds little at all
two commemorative coronation plates and
a just unfinished bottle of ‘Teachers’
the other wears a blouse
that has never left the house
smells of mothballs and doubts
a twenty five year old present
her skin is tissue paper thin
as she sits a yard away from him
the space between
although unseen
has long been an ever present
Double-glazing keeps the streets away
a repeated defeated day
the grey screen of the TV retreats and they
don’t need it
the daily paper arrives they don’t read it
but to cancel it now seems too drastic a measure
if he feels bold
he might mention the weather
the tea’s cold and
without being told she’ll fetch another
so she does
and now the picture is moving
an old-age independent movie
in his head he calls her Susie
like he used to
in her beautiful ballroom outfit
can she remember?
he never doubts it
and for the times he feels to shout it
he smiles but
only once she has left the room
In the kitchen she lays teabags into cups
and puts
a spoon beside the sugar as she already has
three times today
she moves to the fridge in her slippers
inside there is milk, butter, kippers, four eggs and
an assortment of children’s chocolate bars
she checks the door
smiles then
towards the teacups pirouettes
thinks of vanilla flavour cigarettes
smoked through plastic holders like movie stars
as they sat next to the dance floor
resting
after testing the tea she
returns and the split second
before he sees her he stops
smiling as does she
outside through the window
there is a cricket bat against the wall
a half deflated ball, two Hoola-Hoops and beside the shed
a bike
‘I could fetch down those jigsaws if you like’
and his words throw colour on the walls
‘Now George’, she replies, ‘He’s only five. Those things say ages 8-12’
‘Well. We could help and when he’s ready he’ll do it himself. He learns fast
Just like his dad’
‘And his Granddad’, she says
as she bends at the knees
and places his tea neatly
on the coaster
he stands up and holds her
like he is supposed to
and in three hundred and sixty degrees
she sees herself
in his arms no older than 25
outside
the air is much colder
as they sigh
then sit back down on the sofa
Copyright 2009 Polarbear
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