Warren Lodges

Theberton, Suffolk, May 2005

We wake inside a carapace of pine,
the brain-room cladding nailed up by the dawn,
a backwoods dream distilled, inverted — porn.

Too plausible to prompt a shriek or groan,
the poisoned puddle in an English lane
reflects its map encompassed in the grain.

Lost in these swirls we feel a bit unwell,
the bathroom no more soothing than the hall —
a perspex shield sees through you on the wall.

Such wards of wood unbutton to the nurse
whose strip has long since tossed aside its tease.
Longevity, pokerworked in Japanese,

I wish for you, wrinkled samurai
who needs a prayer for every doubtful door,
the pine so seasoned and the wind so raw.

 

Devil's Judge and Jury

Any judge who can steal the teeth from a kiss,
          the tithe of allpence-ha'penny from a purse
and the fierce red truth of love from a curse

qualifies, amply — welcome to this notorious case.
          Here's the file of all the jury's gutless pleas.
Here's the cell where they sleep and here's the keys.

Their first gambit is to demonstrate just cause.
          Count their days as weeks, their weeks as days.
Submit their limpness to the gorgon's gaze.

Tall dolls are the leverage you have on short guys
          who run the numbers for the lilywhite police.
Standards, loyalties, trust migrate like geese.

All Strasbourg now requires is an educated guess —
          far more humane than people's hit or miss.
But watch your mouth, your gold — gold digger's kiss.

 

Copyright © Robert Saxton, 2006.

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Robert Saxton is the author of Manganese (Carcanet, Manchester, 2004). He lives in London, where he is editorial director of a publishing house.