He who may be she

used to think playing piano

was a way to touch god, or at least

 

something beyond the window

not made of  tarmac, livid body

 

parts. Such a god, music-mother,

swaggering-string-weaver, hip-horn rooster, took him

(as teachers then stamped her,

with the authority of corridors

going nowhere), took her mind off

nightmares slamming down

on club crowds like, well like

metal that re-sprays bodies red

for the hell of it

 

(Because guns long ago

resolved moral e-quations

in their favour)

 

She who would settle for

a less gobby headache, cuts

the next truth in, carefully

coaxing out hesitancies pertaining

to concepts such as “self”,

“gender”, “sanity” – wanders their mind

out the window, across the street,

into a park

 

that became a

retail park 3 years ago,  

 

to

that tree

which didn’t know everything

but at least had a breezy

way with mondays,

 

up in a cat-flick,

took their seat

on the clouds,

played the sky-piano

till there were

no clouds

 

only

this

 


 

Screen Shot 2018-10-19 at 13.11.41

Kevin Jackson, based in Nottingham, has been writing poetry “that dares care” for over ten years.   A queer activist, he’s passionate about socially aware projects that raise understanding and challenge assumptions. His first book, a collection of poems called Touching you, was published in 2016.  He’s been published in Burning House Press, HCE Magazine, RFD magazine, the Words for Walls project run by the University of Nottingham and Over land, over sea, the Poems 4 People anthology in solidarity with refugees.  Kevin is a member of the DIY Poets collective in Nottingham and a keen performer on the spoken word scene.  

He blogs at https://www.facebook.com/kevinjacksonpoetry

 

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