Saturday 14 June 2014

So Fast He Catch'd Up With Mama

SO FAST HE CATCH'D UP WITH MAMA

Fast as fizz, Marty’s fingers when he played, pluckin at pa’s old six-string guitar and takin new music out of somethin that had laid unseen for seven years under pa’s bed. I said it was still too soon and that’s what pa’d say. Marty singin also, like a cat moon-howlin, and that in a house that’d heard no other sound but prayer for so long.

Marty couldn’t say where he learned to play like the devil. It just come to him, he said, like he was born to it, like it was somethin he’d heared his whole life. He said it was the first sound he could remember, listenin through the dark wall of his mama.

Pa nodded and he was not cross with Marty, did not take the guitar from the boy or put it back ‘neath his bed. Seven years mama had slept in the ground out back, a stone for a pillow, flowers at her feet, and that day was the first I saw pa smile. It was like the sun comin out after a black and broodin storm has passed.

‘Play some more,’ pa said, and he took to his room and shut the door, but we knowed he was listenin on the other side.

Fast as fizz or fireworks or flame, and once he’d started Marty couldn’t stop, not though his fingers blistered and bled. And pa said nothin 'gainst the boy’s chores not done or his schoolbooks unopened. And we threw wide all the windows in the house, so’s we could breathe at last, and the whole neighbourhood heared the boy playin.

Old man Fordie said he thought it was pa at first. When he heared it was Marty, well he slapped his thigh and called the boy a chip off the old block.

Years back that was, and now I do think on that time, believin it had somethin to do with the devil after all. Marty joined a band and one day his face was in all the newspapers, and they said he was fast and loose with women, and his eyes in those pictures was heavy with drugs and drink so he was not hisself. Too fast by half he was, and faster, and too soon in the ground with his mama.

These days pa’s all dark and silent and prayin again, though I don’t rightly know what he’s prayin for.





THE VIPER

(If a viper in its nest says beware it is a viper's nest we're in, is the viper-truth really truth?)


THE VIPER

Beware the viper
its flickering tongue
and pretty speeches that say
it’s a viper’s nest we’re in
and poison stings
sharper than nettles or wasps
yet it coories in
weaving its slip-slither coils
into folded plaits
running like quick-silver
or words softly spoken
and what it says
the second cousin of truth
only eat of this apple
so you shall know
all things
and you shall know
lies.