the glass which is keeping the air out, the workers in. He thinks nab means opportune theft
(elevenses for Kerri featuring buildings and theft)
The April air above the office blocks is guileless blue
and too warm to trust. On the corner there is a
situation, cordoned off, a jumble
of witches’ hats and high viz. The building says nab. The logo is a bloodied red star. One
point
is striped with absences, sharp parallel scars, twin
zebra stripes of gouge, they gesture
to the window washer, white helmeted, in his slowly rising
cage, who tends to the dust. He bathes
the glass which is
keeping the air out, the workers in. He thinks nab means opportune theft
Inside, on the window ledge, a dusty white peace lily
calls to the white helmet. Beside it a woman
with a headset and bitten nails, her roots starting to
show. Her screen says nab. She tends
to it
like a duty, like dusty window, it does not always obey
her instructions, there are wilful red absences
starting to show. In her mind, a dream of a day with no gouges,
no glass, a portal she sails through,
opportunely, on a Vespa, in a sundress, unbereaved again,
unmarked, impossible to catch.
ah the long-lined elevenses! like an extra tim tam with your tea
ReplyDeleteevery time I try to write one of these it expands. This one will too. The last one went straight to a page and a half and will not be reined in ;-)
ReplyDeleteYes, I really struggle with them. But as we all know, I need some d-i-s-c-i-p-l-i-n-e.
DeleteMelinda, I have started to accrue them, but I am still working on a way to manage my centre line; I'll post my effort today for you...a multi-story elevensy
ReplyDeleteah an elevensy
ReplyDelete-- that's the kindll keep ya cosy by the fire come June