Monday, 18 June 2012
Writing Exercises part 2
the more fanatically devoted of you may remember this from last year:
I was looking through old notes on the phone (as you do) and came across some fruits of my labours. I post the least embarrassing here for the sake of posterity...
Her glass eye shone light
plain as day on the mountain
in whose shadow she lay,
shaded by clouds lit
Shadowing her one good eye
from the sun's light breaking
through the cloud, planing the
iris, the retina glassing over
the mountain's darkness.
The Waiting Room of Hatred.
The Waiting Room of Hatred has neat, uncomfortable wooden chairs
arranged around the walls; all facing inwards so that the occasional
occupants may stare awkwardly at each other during their incumbency.
Periodically, all the reasons I have for hating you (form an orderly
queue, please) enter and take their leisure for a second, a minute, an
hour, a day. One or two may stay forever, lurking in corners and
avoiding each other's eye. They will be the last things to leave when
I die, reconciled to you or possibly not. There is no appointment
system. They arrive without warning, take a ticket and sometimes only
leave after much persuasion from me. There are many reasons why I hate
you; jealousy, fear, insecurity, low self-esteem. These are my issues,
pushed into the waiting room, bleeding and confused, by an unguarded
comment or misjudged behaviour of yours to which I am seismically
sensitive. They are banished by my feelings of bravery, resilience and
self-belief, who arrive also courtesy of an unguarded moment of loving
regard from you, tossed carelessly like crumbs. Like unholy bouncers,
they turf out nearly all of the reasons why I hate you and just for a
moment, I feel free.