SELECTED POETRY

by
Lauren McCarthy

EMMA'S SHED, 1993

Curious at 10
We three
Lifted
Wooden box
From dining room drawer
Still sealed
Precious cargo
Of
Cuban cigars
Stole away, to
The shed
At the bottom of
Your garden
With a box of
Long
Cook’s matches
Remembering seeing
It done on TV
We all had a go
Biting off the ends
Which proved too difficult,
So someone went
To swipe
The kitchen scissors
We managed a
Spectacular
Bonfire
Burning
Vintage
Cuban cigars

© Lauren McCarthy

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DOLL'S HOUSE CORNER

My home
My castle
My cave
My box
My dolls-house
The Neighbours of
Dolls-House Corner
Were older
Than most
When I was small
Now I am grown
They are all
But gone
Their homes now
Occupied
By couples from the city
Childless
With a red mini

© Lauren McCarthy

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HEART OF STAINED GLASS

The sunlight shone through the bathroom air vent like liquid light strained through a sieve, speckling squares on the wall opposite. She observed this, and put her hand up around half way between the air vent and wall. The light squares hit her flat palm, looking like some exotic rash or tropical disease. This reminded her of an occasion, on a late summer afternoon some years before, when reading on a train back from the city, the low sun caught the old diamante necklace she was wearing, and hundreds of refracted rainbows flew around the carriage. She remembered smiling in public at this magic, although no one else seemed to notice, either the prisms or her smile. The hot bath water was rising in visible clouds. The frost that night has made room temperatures chilly, so that any source of heat; be it breath or bath steam, was clearly visible. The clouds reached the level of the air vent, and, like smoke on a laser trip wire, the sunrays became visible lines of tight yellow light. Dust also has this effect; she had seen a similar occurrence one day in her youth, she walked from back room to kitchen via the hallway. The sun was streaming through the front doors bottle glass panels. The front of the house faced west, and was exposed to the last light of day. The rays showed up all the dust particles hovering in the hallway air. Her house had never been particularly dust-free, but without the static, suspended dust, the beams would have been un-captured and invisible. She was thankful for dust, paste diamante and that the air vents plastic shutter was left open.

© Lauren McCarthy

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ICARUS @ HEATHROW

I am Icarus
In flight
To the sun
Change your
Scenery
To Delhi
Silk sari
Flame orange
Thread flowers
Market banter
I have
Barbie
In the
Same sari

© Lauren McCarthy

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SPLASH BACK

White tiles
Side
By side
Two odd
Cream ones
You laid
Discoloured
Teeth
Next to
Healthy
Specimens
Not wearing
Glasses
You did not notice
Until
After grouting

© Lauren McCarthy

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SALLY AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY

In ’61,
At 21
Receiving boxes
Stuffed
With raw straw
And Sunday best
Hidden away
From the
Light of day
All these years
Out of sight
And mind
With your
Wedding dress
For me to
Find
And those
Sheffield
Plate
Teaspoons
(But you don’t drink tea)
Embossed with
A tendril rose
Like Mackintosh,
Or Warhol,
You say
They
Were a gift
From a man
Who worked
At Bournville,
Cadbury Roses
Commemoration

© Lauren McCarthy

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MOTHER'S RUIN

The pomegranate
Holds no greater mystery
Than a woman holds
The seed and vessel
Poisoned by the pill
And too much
Gin

© Lauren McCarthy

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THE HAUNTED BIRD-HOUSE

Nest of
Threads
On our
Third-hand
Carpet
All white
Manufactured
By those invisible
Birds who
Never flew
That summer
We watched each
Day at break
Warm sun
On boxwood
Of their
Tiny home
Death by
Daisy chain
Abandonment
We found
Delicate bones
Of dead chicks
Who never
Used their wings

© Lauren McCarthy

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