Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Margaret shouldn’t have got the job
by logic she was runner-up
second choice
second best.
Her references were good
but swiss cheese work history
solid with gaps
“ chefs,” she shrugged beaming
it’s what we do, work and travel
travel and work
a great ticket to see the world.”
Despite the willing vivacity
there was something of an underdog about her
backing the underdog  ….. such a human reflex.  She got the job.

In other times she would have been labelled gay
she had that quality – gaiety.
Happy
hard-working
bossy, in an endearing way.
An individual. An unreformed smoker who enjoyed football
and rode a motorbike – 650cc
arriving and departing cigarette in one hand
helmet in the other.

The delegation stood at the door
three
two or more, storm clouds. Always.
“ about Margaret
could you speak to her …….. about body odour.”

It wasn’t easy. She was unaware and hurt.
How is it that summer can end abruptly
passing directly to winter without autumn
cold and dark.
Standards declined. Sick days rose.
Counselling. Warnings. Dismissal.

Six months elapse to an unexpected question
“how old was Margaret?”
39, recall thought
a quiet woman wonders if this is her
in the back pages
‘Margaret…..
…..unexpectedly
……graveside service today 2 p.m.’
it is yesterday’s paper.

If only
perhaps.
Later I learned of the psychiatric history
and admissions
It relieved me of the stalking guilt.

 

They were a female underclass
arrived at parenthood early
propelled by circumstances and adventure
clinging to maternity as if their only possession in life
a single, almost random, item snatched from a sinking ship.

She began with universal approval and goodwill
57 years old,a  mother and grandmother
after three childless head of departments
it was good to have someone who understood they said.
Approval ratings soared when they learned she had experienced
the disrepair and decay of partnership
married from early 20’s for a decade
another decade of solo parenting
followed by a dozen years of redemption.
Children, she was so proud of her three
knew you weren’t supposed to have favourites
but her daughter had provided a grandchild
“wait for grandchildren
you’ll wish you could go have gone straight there.”

It could have been the blur of work pace
or as suspicion sometime speculated
the muddled inattention of medications.
Cataloguing contained frequent errors
information filed without proofreading.
Incorrect matches were spoken
sons mistaken for daughters
sports for hobbies
endearing idiosyncrasy for behavioural difficulty
significant events forgotten or mistaken.

Her inner circle made details permanent
by the same method children learn multiplication tables
constant repetition.
Most succumbed to frustration
feeling undervalued and abandoned
renounced by the faith that joined them.
Goodwill died. It was the conception of failure.

Intimacy earned or default
often eyed with envy, sometimes spite
children are greedy of parents and grandparent’s favour
men compete with men for unaccompanied company of woman
friendship pretends not to rank
pretends there is no ranking.

By chemistry states of better form and change
seduced or imprisoned by temperature
the twirl of steam
the hostility of ice
temperature’s favour or displeasure.

We were three friends three years into a third decade
forever seemed inevitable
diminished proximity diminished contact – but not warmth
one ritual inviolate
we always moved one another
cars, trailers, muscles, artificial derision of possessions
payment by the one moving
beer and pizza at the Italian place frequented as students.

Human relations can be a Russian novel
cameo in chapter 3 becomes a major character on page 857
the eternal bachelor not the same
evidence of change everywhere
hairstyle, wardrobe, spending
long-standing insignificance become significant
she was moving in   ….  and they out .
A new home in the fashionable suburb
beer and pizza I said.
“No.”Professionals had been contracted.

A celebration was arranged
quiet sometimes chooses the most inappropriate moments
the party din briefly silent
an innocuous question to the bride-to-be
“this Friday, friends with cars and trailers.”
The almost husband stares at his glass
the bottom intensely interesting
noise swells back
washing our friendship away.