Issue 15, January/February 1998
Alex Pilling - Two Poems

When I visit my brother 
in his hospital ward,
and search his mad eyes
for the person I once loved;
the adorable rogue 
who textured my childhood
with his wicked grin 
and devil-may-care ways;
I sometimes envy him 
the security and happiness
that comes from existing 
inside his own mind,
oblivious of the cruel realities 
of  life in the "real" world; 
outside his delusions.

Whatever he has, 
it is real enough to him, 
and it protects him 
from the emotional pain
that comes from being too aware
of one's own shortcomings
and the cruel betrayals 
of loved ones.
The truth is, that he died
but his body still walks and talks,
a flesh and blood ghost;
the image of my little brother,
unreachable in this dimension.

But.  I still miss him so.

Tiptoeing through the weeds and rubble
towards the ramshackle worm-infested wooden shed
that lies gently rotting at the bottom of the garden,
 I sense the night hang heavy on my troubled soul
and imagine that the world has died without me.

Trembling hands reach slowly forward,
frost-numbed fingers gently lift the latch
and pull to ease the crumbling door ajar; 
against the muted squeal of the rust-tight hinges
and the silent appeal of my better judgement.

Pause.  Count to ten. Then  peer inside,
desperately willing my red-rimmed eyes
to adjust to the darkness of the dank interior;
to turn up the contrast and reveal the inky blackness
as merely subtler variations on darker shades of grey.

Hearing attenuates in the enveloping silence, 
lending audibility to my shallow aspiration,
synchronised with the tenuous puffs
of vapour my lungs expel before my face
and I hear the sighing of the icy breeze.

No sound creeps from within the lair
of these creatures of the endless night.
Could it really be that they slumber still,
in ignorance of this tremulous intruder
invading their domain with such impunity?

Approach then; footsteps silently traversing, 
but counting the paces back to the door 
and safety, from these ravening creatures.
Closer now - towards the minute rustle 
of bodies shifting economically in sleep.

Now! Silently, carefully do your work
and complete that act demanded of you
by duty, bonded by a solemn promise, 
to one who is no longer here to serve;
do it quickly, and do it in her name.

The deed  is done! My heart exults,
dizzy in the knowledge that I kept my word
to give the hated beasts what they were due!
My feet are flying toward the silver safety 
afforded by the light of the rising moon.

How I wish my sweet beloved daughter
could be with me now in the haven of our home,
to free me from this nightly anguished torture
of feeding and watering her adored pet rats, 
whilst she's away to visit her grandmother.


(I am  not allowed to call them vermin,
"they are fancy rats, father and they love me!")