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Poem of the Month - September 2004
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Hanging from a Helium Balloon
from On Nights Like This

Something like nothing
you've ever seen descends
some mornings strung in billowed dream
slung low enough by cords from clouds
to stroke you. Your dangling feet
touch ground and you drift
almost weightless down
to get the kettle on

or colours from the galleries loom
and swirl in an eyelid
fantasy of form from a dated magazine
in the dentist's waitingroom; it comes
complete to credits held
by hummingbirds with whirring wings

or all at once your flashlight plays
over genuine cave art here
of all plates in the poisoned tunnel
where the metro goes under the river

as with that Greek who marvelled
at the stars and so doing fell
into a pond, a night, an end,
his own especial sea
weird with reality.

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