‘After the ending of this inspiration…’ -T S Eliot
After the shouting and cussing,
After the blunt demands and defiant refusales,
And after the handwriting deciphering of missing poems and threats to ruin the peaceful garden,
I spoke to my neighbour on the phone, through the wall,
Of the day,
Of the guide-dogged unguided thuggery of the man who throws his weight to get his wat.
This is a Supported Housing complex of unsupported complexities and those that revel in mistrust.
We talked until the operater cut me off at 6.30 a.m of a September morning cold enough for snow.
‘Hello Fox!’ Echoed off the grass below my sock footed balcony.
In one breath his orange fur extinguished into black ivy by the wall.
My fox has escape routes I wish I knew.
Already the traffic gushed along the park,
There was no violet air only indigo, the etchings of familiar tree branches,
The first declaration of morning exchange between my whisper and a crow.
Downstairs balcony, one flat along, a cherry thick smell of shisha smoke told me I shared this dawn.
Nests sang with dry hello’s, the sound child make with imaginary guns.
A boy on the top deck of a bus stuck in rain had pointed his closed umbrella, spied a pedestrian and took aim.
Over machine gun birdsong and blackbird aria I laughed at a stag’s disgruntled moan.
After my sight was given to clouds of fresh bruises, sagging dirty denim blues.
I tilted my head up and was greeted by diamond points of rain.
This was my ‘Sunday outing’ without ever been to bed. And the world did not seem futile,
Only witnessed and sublime.
This poem was inspired after reading missing and ommitted sections of The Waste Land by T S Eliot. The fascimile and transcript of the original manuscript, as well as the missing poems, editted by Valery Eliot is available from Amazon here The Waste Land : A Facsimile and Transcript of the Original Drafts Including the Annotations of Ezra Pound