Play Dead chapbook - Alan Garvey.doc

8/14/2019 Play Dead chapbook - Alan Garvey.doc

1/23

Play Dead

for Keir

When they have you underconstant observation

supervisions scrutinywhatever you willWhen they have you understethoscopes and jabsmeasure your blemished skinwith all manner of monitors, machines

Let one thing only betrayyou, speak for youlet that be the beat of your heartwitness to all you swear true

I am alive and I breatheand I am I as you are you.

!

Play

Dead


2/23

"lan

#arvey

Lines for "l Pittman$itting in your stool in %asual &acks' swing my eyes round and take in the chilledglasses, touch screen lotto, brickwork

entrance and front windows lit by neon stripsand an (ltramar across the slushed)up road,back to your space in the bar where a man

can see everything. "nything can happenwhere balls and cues are racked for buddiesto play pool and video games give you a hand

then ask do you know someonewith a problem* +eres the number.' cant help but fumble in my seat,

scratch the backside of a scrap of paper,slip some change into the shallow channelin front of my paw. $ure, what else

would an 'rishman do but be freeand easy with his change about a bar,

or write notes home about the weather

but think about riday night and the wayDes Walsh danced with his fiddle,how he got those smile lines around his eyes*

-r is that just snows blinding glare*' wish ' had the chance to meet youto see if you had that in your stare.

/%ontents

L"mour %ourtois 0%opper #reen 1

Prayer 23aboo /

3urn off the lights 4'nertia 5!

$wans 567riars 53he landscape looks clean now 5

+aiku 50Duty ree 51Digging 5/

$erendipity 66#lass 60$pider 61


3/23

La8y 'rishmen 62$nipers in Derelict +ouses 64

9ever :ind 5;illanelle

#reat War #host Poppy 1

:ein


4/23

back to class from a lunch)hour Aden,and ', the solitary magpie

in the branches above,whose harsh croak distortsthe syllables of love.

0

#reat War #host

Rugby

Why watch the scrums of rugby, the clashof flesh a cry from where you sleep*

Wind backhands the leaves of oak and ashover mud churned by boots and feetbristling with calves streaked by sweaton the pockmarked yards a team must keep.

For You Forget

3he face is all, for you forgetB words become

redundant in this tower of dark. $ommeand =pres are wounds with no point of entry.We know your name was Peter, 7rown)PlatensfriendB shell)shocked member of the gentrywho sank beneath a green and grey hori8onthat washed over this troubled Anglish scion.

The Hammered

3he hammered object is brought to bearon earth torn by hooves of cavalry.3here is no first or working class it learns,no upperClower form in Deaths "cademy.Decembers sun throws rows of plantersbeech into a mottled and pitiful shadebut from behind that "nglo line a cannonade,

a triumph of the will that it remains betweentwo worlds to man the gate and do its duty still.

Prayer

9osing the elasticthat creases your inside thighout of place

a few stray hairs connectwith mine. ' snee8e. 7less youEyou reply. ' smile.

+e already has.


5/23

2it would be right beside ours in grief.3he %D stops, cigarette burns to a close.'s this the last we have of a loved one,a wave goodbye, do you want anything

in the shops* 3hey are too preciousto let go of when with us. 3ake hold.

6

3urn off the lights

3urn off the lights and close the doorson a do8en empty rooms or morefor youre the lost one left to flickthe switch and listen to the timers tick.:ovement stays the damp so farbut nights are turning colder,darker, and there is no witnessto how lonely you really are.


6/23

Photos on a locker have her facebut frame and glass contain the kissfrom the one whod watch you sleepwhen, nightly, you dive into the deepwhere with grace and luck you may forgetwhat never was and dream with no regret.

4+is head and shoulders are caught in the nook

of a crosshairs Fuadrant, a gallows tree crook.#o ahead rub your neck, maybe its bruised*

:aybe some sweetheart took a chunk out of you*:y rifles butt brushes my hip as ' roll to geta better view, a lover in discoverys delight

at something new, like a barrel smooth,

snug as a cigarette between lipstick teeth,impatient for a spark, for the shark to rise

from beneath. 3his pleasures momentary, pos)ition absurdG a few column inches, an archof gunshots pious words, the draped flags

parsimony of tears wrung from stiff upper lips. -sword which summons our blood and controlsthe image onscreen, the printed word, little

things like when and where we walk, with whomwe speakB the meekest of cheeks will turn.=ou know for what we yearnB

ravenous graves, whose earths heaped high,

and your blood bleaching the rods in our eyesas the rising sun reveals an open sky.

!:y skull is clear and cobalt blue." manicured lawn fills full one third my view.Hook, thrush and wren must singbut ' have no will for anything.


7/23

55but the la8y 'rishman lies down still.$tretched out behind a mortared wall,mothers and maids his only mournersin simple homespun frocks so >uakerthey do not see the moment when he fallsbeneath an orchards leaves and a wall

of coats the right way round.9o bacon will be bought in 'relandfor months hogs gorge on windfallsof flesh, they litter the ground.#ods will be done ) thoughthe la8y 'rishman lies down still.+is blood trickles into streamsthen rivers that flow uphill.

6/

7riars

$hears reap the arrears of neglect,cleave the air, wince, and crack.


8/23

3his garden reeks of decayBtimber crumbles between thumb and finger.

$i@ weeks later, bra8en as ever, they trumpetpersistence, shake roots the shape of fists at me,gnarly and coated with earth, more intimate withthe soilthan ', up to my wrists in it,grubbing at tubers.

3heir roots make haste to embrace in the sunwhen shouldered aside with a twist of fork.3hey make short work.' have just begun.

5

$pider

't can be corners or curves, anythingmay catch the eyeB blank spaceprime canvas for the erection of edifice.+ere is the thrill in beingthe pendulums swing or weighton the end of a crane from curtain to wall,an e@ecutioners ecstasy in drop and diagonal.' used to picture a frame or lampshadeand wait for the light to be turned on,enjoy seeing you see what 've done.7ut now, now is the millers wheel of circles,myself at the centre surrounded by husks of flies.

61


9/23

+aiku

for Emiko Miyashita

IiJ

$ilver birch blush, barewhere conifers are carefulto keep their clothes on.

IiiJ

9o matter if stormsare days or months long, trees shrug

their shoulders, snow melts.

50iii! "ook#ase

3he bookcase rarely escapes his eye.ive stories high, of black ash effect,

it frames thousands of chapters and names.

3hey e@pect to be e@posed page by page,put down when he tires of them.9othing is to change without his say so.

+e e@pects them to be in the same position,#eteris paribus, when he picks them up again.3hey derive life e@clusively from his attention.

'n this they are nothing but a reflection.


10/23

6'n memory of the days we sharedflagons and cans, trips on strawberriesor mushies and that carton of ciggies

we smoked in a day, ' send this wishfor peace, duty free, eight years away.

52

$erendipity

i! The $hop

7ooks are bunged into baskets,upright as infantry, names on chestsor flat on their backs

like "la#k %a#eat its worst,spine snapped wherereaders patience was lost.

$omeone has died nightdress, pyjamas, slippers arrive.:oths are ghosts hiding in folds

of three)piece suits, do8ens of handbagsand shin length skirts, their matching shoes,too loud +awaiian shirts.

Ladies with perms register the cost

of annuals whose time has passedBjigsaws missing their pieces,

faded hats that once bore fruit,wrinkled workboots, blouses,trousers worn out in one night,

plates with cracks mapping their faces,


11/23

bone china with odd numbers of places,candles that never had the courage to light.

66

IiiJ

3his is the grave of my haunted self,this small corner, this trap for the sun.lies swarm as the humus churns.

$weat spatters the soil and ' tastethis salt on my lips, an overdue debtto the ghosts whom ' would lay to rest

but this is what ' do best, digging,e@humationB picking apart bonesor stone laid on stone, foundations.

54IiiiJ

' balance myself with allinstinctive eFuationsrolled into bicep

and thigh, positionwhat needs be movedfrom " to 7 with a glance

of eye, arms work in tandemwith the spade)e@tension.' am si@ feet ahead of myself and flying

with each scoop as it dissembles,a wing momentarily detached

from where it belongs,

scattered and free, airborne in song.


12/23

6!IivJ

've turned this earth over and over again,seen mechanical diggers drop mountainsover the wall into my back garden,

felt its weight on my spade Iapplianceof casual toss to the right place,

perfect thrust, scoop and balanceJ

wheeled barrow)loads and nothings turned up.' dont know what ' look for, skull or cup,femur or flint of some primeval man, map

of my forebear who, maybe, planted seeds here,there,broke the soil with as much finesse as a birdbreaks airBa man with a family to feed, with hands to fill as heclears

the roots of weeds, crumbles clay in his hands, letsspill

his clutch of seed.

65

Digging

for $in&ad Marshall

IiJ

=ou have a choice dig Ktil your hands bleedor fester in soil strewn with builders rubble.

Prickly things, sins, years laterthey crawl into light as mountains

aching for the sun spread their spiky leavesand spawn others of their kind in circles.


13/23

5/ii! The 'ri#ing of (lassi#s

Pencil nib or price tags are discrete,applied by hand, though yellowedby time and sweat, are not obsolete.

-ne finds offence in the permanentblack marker on the books front cover,the barcodes cage of straight line

and digit, interest ? e@change rate

fi@ed by middlemen between reader and writer.Let this be a marriage of mutability

where the debt is paid off penny by pennywhenever the book is open in ones hand.3his is a lifetime vow, mortgage or dowry.

6

Duty ree

i)m) ') F)

%arlows changed since we were hereBshopping centres and a %ineple@ are signsand though $craggs "lley and 3ullysunderwent renovations inside theyre stillselling beer on the cheap to first years.

=our mother ? ' met after your deathGdid %$* prove too mu#h+ did he playfor the other side,s team- +ow to replythat Darwins law of tooth and clawhad the brute force of truth for you

who lived life by the dream* 3he graveyard


14/23

opposite grows with its trees, imperceptibly,a family makes its home in the housewhere you and three others livedwith life)si8e pics of "nderson, Pam.

' never knew that much about youand you that much about me thoughwe swapped tapes of suicide rock.' liked to talk the talk but nevere@pected you to walk that lonely walk.

51

#lass

$ee your reflection in a glass doorGblacks, whites, no lying nuance of colour,shades of greyG none of the gilt trimmingsmirrors paint us with in our swimmings.

60

3he landscape looks clean now

3his emptiness in the air chillswith the same borderline thrills of a blank page.$tarched)white, crisp as a laundered garment,

all has been rubbed clean by a cloth of frost.

3he stranger ahead sinks into mist.'t can swallow him whole for all ' carefor frost is thick on the treesand branches are tentacles that wave in the wind,hungrily.


15/23

5

La8y 'rishmen

"ased on the arrest and murder of Ri#hard Yeatesin "allitore+ (o) Kildare+during the rising of ./01)

+eres a >uaker wife in her kitchen.+ome is pots and pans scrubbed cleanwhere the kettle sings alone, a melody.

3he smell of fresh bread draws inthe crowds, a circus ring of yeomanrywho have a Homan prisoner bound.+es tugged along, though the la8y'rishman is lying down.'n their hands are muskets, pikes,they do not sit for tea, thoughthe kettle has been lifted, pours.-ne takes bread and butter,lifts his chin a little higherbefore a double in the mirrordeclares its time for war.9o kneeling priest or seven sonsand daughters, reminders thatnot all 'rishmen are la8yand are eFual before their :aker

will change this militias drumhead decree.#ods will be done ) thoughthe la8y 'rishman is lying down.3urncoat, informer, his sleevesshow signs of patching, wearBsFuires son, he may have numberedmen and weapons in barracks there

62

$wans

Hushes bow to the brown riverFuiverful of secrets where cygnets

and swans gra8e on summer shoots.


16/23

3heir beaks trouble no rootsthough they are Fuestion marks floating

anchors of themselves in reflection.

56

$nipers in Derelict +ouses

2These se#urity people+ the pointed end of "ritish#ontrol+ and their #ivilian se#urity #olleagues arealways at risk+ ea#h a target 3 the 4udge+ the #ustoms

offi#ial+ the infantry bri#k 3 and the IR5 sele#tion of theparti#ular is determined by #onditions on the ground+patterns of behaviour+ unanti#ipated vulnerabilitiesand lu#k)6

7) "owyer "ell+ IR5 Ta#ti#s andTargets

9ow clouds creep away, hushed windwarning footpath and kerb, the trampledgrass and busy doorway where winos camp

in ammoniac stink of vomit and urine,dirt)cheap drink. 9ewspapers barrackthemselves into blocks and damp black

slogans crawl along a crumbling hallwhile ' search for a knothole or two

in boarded windows too mean

to let in more than slivers of sunshine.$till, work must be done. Long


17/23

'nertia

-ur ne@t)door neighboursbeech frames a better picture.%reepers flaming on our boilerhouse flicker along a chain to our

kitchen wall, sprawl allover a lattice intended to concealan oil tank but only forms a cubbyholefor wrong)footed balls

and ', Love,

indolent in a garden chair,put out to pasture.

Wrapped in a woolly robe ' pad in slippers,shuffle here, there.

$eed has been laid downso empty of desire.'ve no drive to go to towngive me the 8ell9tempered (lavier)

'ts notes state their casewith the simplicity of a diagram.'ts not what ' wasbut who ' am.

$o ' lounge in late $eptember sunand pick up the pen.$o much a Fuestionof where and if to move, when*

5!

9ever :ind

' can do no wrong here. :y fianc

is at work ten miles away. %olmsin schoolB he clock)watches thinkingof play. 7ach mellows my mind.' imagine a small sandpitlined with black plastic,

child)si8e spades and trowels,castle battlements crumblingbeneath pebbles and shells.' linger and test the weight

of a mothers bones buried on a beachfor thirty years. ' see a 3; screen,

her grown children dressed againstthe weather, their tears of hopefor release, that longed)for peaceof knowing. 9ever mind the lies.3ruth is autopsy, caught underfingernails, stained on our clothes,

the earth stuck to our shoes soles.Were certain when we see a strandof hair, we know how it blows,its colour, the dye we helped to apply.We massaged that collarbone at night,nu88led ne@t to that cheek, always believed


18/23

5

3aboo

$teady and trueas a butterflyswings in slow motion

when it feathers a stamenthe heart tattoosa mesh of petals and pollen.

(nrolling her tonguea moment of nectar

trapped

legs bend at the knee.

/

;illanelle

Aach bullet, bomb or shells another lieWars never fought for likes of usB we die'f you sign up my lad then so will '

#enerals lose not arm nor leg nor eye3heir sons shant fightB theyll live not dieAach bullet, bomb or shells another lie

=our mothers tears are real as well her sighs$hed give her life for yours and not ask why'f you sign up my lad then so will '

3he profiteer, his hopes are high+is motives clear, his greeds not shyAach bullet, bomb or shells another lie

3his earth belongs to you not them or 'Lifes ours to live not sell or buy

'f you sign up my lad then so will '

:y child ' love my life ' do not lie7ut if you must go 'd rather dieAach bullet, bomb or shells another lie'f you sign up my lad then so will '


19/23

%opper #reen

ischers from pebbled shores and surfwears blue jeans and blue)checked shirtsankle boots the hue of sunburnt turf.

+is thin blue ropes reel in capelina tattoos bracelet round his wristis a charm beneath a yellow oilskin.

'cebergs Kn outcrops pare him to the bone.3ake the bell)tower from your window,polish itB its memasonry M has been honed.

7ird and bat)proof wire bleeds brooksof copper green tears, sublime as candlewa@ on a bottle through the years.

=ou move a cairn from office to home.Aach time ' climb those stairs for you' build one in my heart stone by stone.

Mthe residual feeling of previous o##upants in abuilding

15r#h

#ranite may be seen as marble from afarwhen we whitewash this arch, this portico to Warwhose target is the sky, the eye of heaven

that sheds its tears for the millions of reasonsit takes to make a man and see him die.


20/23

0

:ein


21/23

2December 6!!0

$et in 5 ? 6! pt #aramond.

3he moral right of the author is asserted.9o part of this publication may be reproduced

without prior permission.

$nipers in *ereli#t Houseswas first published inHowever "low the 8inds+ an anthology of poetry :

songfrom ;ewfoundland : %abrador and Ireland

and subseFuently appeared in The "lanket.;ever Mindwas first published in $outhword,the journal of the :unster Literature %entre

and (opper


22/23

but ' know to say as little as possibleand have an answer for everything.=ou have my name, address, nothing on meand the nodge burns on my shirtare the only holes in this story.

4

+ornPressN5!


23/23

Play

Dead

"lan#arvey

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Play Dead chapbook - Alan Garvey.doc