Savvy Poem – Snowdon’s Foot

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Vertical.

Vertical does not go with vertical.

Turning back,

I stick to ground level.

My right foot being crook,

I remain

at one with the foot of

Snowdon.

 

Pressure.

Pressure is a cure for the pain.

I apply it, settling myself down upon the arch of Snowdon’s foot,

hoping to stunt the flow of all incoming annoyances.

 

Equipped with pencils and colours, I

sketch out the house of my Achille’s heel –

pale green – not yet quite gangrenous!

 

Around it, I fill in the broccoli florets,

like clouds, not static,

but still –

even harder to capture!

 

I feel good, focused and intent upon

completion.

 

Clouds of charcoal grey force themselves

between artist and paper,

threatening to destroy

all that is, just in itself, fine about this moment.

 

A child skirts around me, invading

the me-space.

The me-space of my own arched foot.

 

‘Is it good?’ a father asks,

turning up the volume of his iPlayer in

advance of retort.

 

No child’s voice required.

Just laughter, loudness, and

a square of burnt-black

deadness.

 

The arch of my foot

barbecued, and my lungs

all clogged up with

the follies of

otherness.

 

I unravel and retreat.

The moment

still free.

 

Copyright of text and image owned by Jay Cool, 8th August, 2019

 

Savvy Diary – The Torture

 

Savvy Article – Boris & Donald

 

 

 

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