if this door fails to open, stand well back & wait for the wind to drop

two scuffed notes half-frozen in the wind
under  the bed       half a minor third
mouthed by the hinges in her cupboard
the other  voiced on weathered chimney lips
careering down through my middle
               caked   & feathered with soot
exposed to shakes of displaced light
seen in dream after fake dream of the present
where  footprints stop & old estates begin
as one note fades    the light gets briefly stronger
it is not impossible to enter some pianos
if you make yourself very small & still
               in the morning  you can press
your knee against its leg     feeling  voices
all along your personal valley of bones
               long after they've gone
according to Anonymous 4
there lacked a language to fill the spaces
as 50,000 a day died for want of basics
which are here & there     behind the fences
               WTO         World Bank           IMF
best before: see neck
the percussionist grumbled
the fur keeps coming off my beater
               with every day that passed
the moon became more distant from the earth
               claw an awkward chord & shoot
darkening rapids on cumbersome punts
in wellingtons the repetitive stomach churning
is the right hand the fear is the left
Schumann playing  late into the night
until her soul & shoulders ached

Norfolk         March 2008