FIONA FARRELL
Clean sheet night
On clean sheet night
they sleep a baby sleep
dream milk dreams
a white lake
white swan circling
snow fallen smooth
over every crevice.
they sleep a baby sleep
dream milk dreams
a white lake
white swan circling
snow fallen smooth
over every crevice.
For six nights they have
slipped from perfection
to wrinkled dreams.
slipped from perfection
to wrinkled dreams.
Their sheets have
accumulated residues
dead cells
colonies of mites
blood, sweat and seed
the restless mess that
thrives between the lines.
accumulated residues
dead cells
colonies of mites
blood, sweat and seed
the restless mess that
thrives between the lines.
But on the seventh day
the sheets are stripped
to new leaf
clean sheet
smooth as slate.
the sheets are stripped
to new leaf
clean sheet
smooth as slate.
‘If I were rich,’ she says
toes wriggling as if they
were about to scribble
something new, ‘I’d have
clean sheets every night!
I’d check in as
if life were an hotel,
something sweet
always waiting on my
pillow, towels folded
like envelopes containing
only good news.’
toes wriggling as if they
were about to scribble
something new, ‘I’d have
clean sheets every night!
I’d check in as
if life were an hotel,
something sweet
always waiting on my
pillow, towels folded
like envelopes containing
only good news.’
But he knows they need wrinkles.
How else would they recognise
the smell of the sun
the wind’s cool breath
filling every line
the smell of the sun
the wind’s cool breath
filling every line
the offer made every week
by a pair of clean sheets?
by a pair of clean sheets?
Eel
my youth was glass
pip of my heart
threaded
on gut and vein
for all to see
pip of my heart
threaded
on gut and vein
for all to see
dark currents bore
me west then south
to a place where waves
shattered at a wall
of grey shingle
me west then south
to a place where waves
shattered at a wall
of grey shingle
I wriggled through and
dropped into my life
dropped into my life
bird pipe
flax rattle
mud suck
green leaf
spinning on water
flax rattle
mud suck
green leaf
spinning on water
suspended in my small
pond I lived my hundred
years forgetful of the sea
beyond the bar knowing
only the dimple of rain
soft blur of stars
pond I lived my hundred
years forgetful of the sea
beyond the bar knowing
only the dimple of rain
soft blur of stars
growing thick as your
leg on shreds torn from
dead sheep snapping
at flies but never taking
proffered bait
leg on shreds torn from
dead sheep snapping
at flies but never taking
proffered bait
I have lived as you have
lived: cautiously
lived: cautiously
but now I am old
and the sea knocks
at my head and there’s
a taste to the water
that was not there before
and the sea knocks
at my head and there’s
a taste to the water
that was not there before
I cannot eat cannot settle
guts shrunk to dry rattle
I turn head on to the current
and swim against the stream
drawn by the sound in my head
guts shrunk to dry rattle
I turn head on to the current
and swim against the stream
drawn by the sound in my head
my eyes see more clearly
than they have ever seen
they are rimmed with blue
so that I may see in the dark
that lies ahead
than they have ever seen
they are rimmed with blue
so that I may see in the dark
that lies ahead
I think more clearly
than I have ever thought
my brow flattens so that
I may move without impediment
through the dark that lies ahead
than I have ever thought
my brow flattens so that
I may move without impediment
through the dark that lies ahead
my belly is heavy
frilled with eggs
20 million strung
on velvet
frilled with eggs
20 million strung
on velvet
I am become lean
and full of purpose
and full of purpose
I cross the bar
on a moonless night
skin scraped blood raw
on sharp shingle
on a moonless night
skin scraped blood raw
on sharp shingle
I drop back into the dark
into the ocean where
everything moves faster
and the lights confuse
into the ocean where
everything moves faster
and the lights confuse
I find my path my body
freighted with millions
freighted with millions
I am heavy with the
future I bear it along
the dark path through
forests of kelp and
booming cavern
following the taste
in the water
and the stars marking
sharp left and right
future I bear it along
the dark path through
forests of kelp and
booming cavern
following the taste
in the water
and the stars marking
sharp left and right
I swim north then
east one undulating
muscle one blunt head
barking at the moon
east one undulating
muscle one blunt head
barking at the moon
I swim to the place
where it is time to burst
where it is time to burst
I heave and writhe
torn flesh
torn flesh
egg dances to sperm
the water glitters like
broken glass
the water glitters like
broken glass
and now that’s done
I drift upon the surface
I drift upon the surface
empty
old bag
skin for gulls
old bag
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Fiona Farrell is about to leave for Ireland to take up the Rathcoola Residency, when she plans to finish her fifth novel – Mr Allbones’s Ferrets – and prepare new work for a third collection of poetry.