Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

His brother in law like to josh him
not about being a priest
or even belief in God
more about the range of alternatives
the other banks into which to deposit faith.
Sun worshipper
Scientologist.
Water diviner.
Yoga master

There was no malice, friendship longstanding
predating ordination
before Holy Orders there had been last orders
still were, only one couldn’t buy many rounds.
Poverty, chastity and obedience
sister and husband couldn’t do much about the last two
but did take him places
footing the bill
going as a family
children, father, mother and Father
once to an annual carnival.

The two saw the tent simultaneously.
Madame Claire.
decoder of stars
forecaster of the future.
The priest declined
then without ever knowing why or how
inverted the challenge
his companion loss of faced into a reading.

Long fingers of bone wrap around an offered palm
a shudder and prediction – precise and brutal.
death by automobile on a prescribed day.
Frivolity shrank
both emerge shaken and silent
neither mention it again.

On the forecast date
succumbing to should know better ill ease
the brother-in-law stayed at home.
Inside. All day.
In the early evening a motor vehicle accident
one fatality – time and place intersected exactly with his life.

Time shifts extending and renouncing favour
new order dismisses the old
what was influential can become obsolete
the insignificant ascends to influence.
Before reliable contraception and enlightened thinking
women faced brief and brutal career choices
teaching, nursing or domestic service
all passport to punitive grind.

Technology and egalitarianism
made domestic service extinct
education and health care have prospered
elevated from barely skilled to smart degrees.
Nursing goes to college. What would Nightingale think?

For pretty young women in private hospitals
instant admission to the middle class
unfamiliar to some
status. Income. A nice workplace. Very nice.
Susie, Sharon, Kate. My fair Ladies
the table the new present
betrayed their practised past.
At functions, Christmas, retirement, unveilings
food is rapaciously snatched
unmindful of rationing’s parameters, price and quantity.
Lunchtime conversation dual tasking
eating and talking – simultaneously.

Service staff exist for their convenience
and condescension.
Suppressed backchat to difficult patients
unleashed on cleaners and food workers.

They were so young
carefree, uncritical of beliefs and self
life a pleasure craft yacht
yet to know angry waters.

They must be in their 40’s now
perhaps the winter squalls of time
of infidelity, of foreclosure, of thwarted ambition
lessen self entitlement and broaden tolerance.
Or warm summer currents
of marriage, of children, of dreams attained
ease contentment into middle class berth
leaving working class slipway with nothing to prove.

The town was conservative
flat in topography
horizontal of opinion
the workplace a model of the town in miniature
a Monday to Friday Sunday School
well scrubbed, well attired, well attended wellness
speaking out permitted in response – by invitation. Gently.

Except for Steve
scruffy, irreverent, opinionated
Iconoclast in residence. Wise guy extraordinaire.

Steve didn’t belong to the union
claiming unions promoted mediocrity – heresy in a Keynesian Court.
At staff meetings he would flip flippant asides
clenching the assistant director’s jaw
squeezing sniggers from the less brave.
I admired him enormously
his wit
his outspokenness
his individuality.

Three decades and four careers later
Steve is doing the same job
in the same place
is the same wildcard joker

Time knows better
he had rare, specific skills
was difficult to replace.
his barbs mischief, not ideological confrontation
irritating, not stinging
more housefly than wasp.
He didn’t need the union
conditions and pay universally applied.Win-win.
I still like him – a lot
but admiration has ceased
understanding came to know
he was a conformist – a very clever one.