by dannyboy
Through the freeze of Pluto
and the heat of Mercury,
beyond the breeze of Saturn
and the scream of Mars
in the shadow of Jupiter’s dreams
and the lost hopes of Venus;
through, beside and ignorant of them all,
in a constant flight from reflection —
my son, it seems,
begs to differ
with everything I have been
and everything I have thought.
Visors misty with our words,
we sit, smug in the bloated suits we don,
on opposite sides of the universe,
prepare to re-plunder each other
with words and looks
in an out of control spiral,
two hearts re-create the bitter belt
we call asteroids.
***
Writing has become difficult of late – I manage a staff of 13 Subject Leaders and over 185 academics (madness to take this on…I know) managing people means I spend free time running to the garden rather than to the desk, to the soil not to words, to plants not characters…
