Refraction

Okkee dokkee, I am lucky that as part of my residency to have also commissioned four excellent poets to write about the Lido as well and I enjoy tremendously including other poets in my projects as they  have another point of view and some incredible voices to add and enrich my own practice and ideas. Plus there is power in a number of poets and I love being inspired and the more poetry the better. So I thought I would share a poem from one of the talented wordsmiths I am working with.

The first poet to join me on this wave of Lido goodness is, Charley Genever who is our present Peterborough Poet Laureate and she has done some remarkable things in the last year and she also produces a spoken word night her in Peebo, called Freak Speak & if you can then please go along. Please follow her at @charleyfarleyha or check out her blog at: charleygenever.wordpress.com

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Charley came with me for a swim and this is the poem she wrote afterwards which is incredibly beautiful and touching and I am pleased that 10 lengths with me could help to produce the following.

 

 

Refraction

The water caught in my ear creaks

like a full bag of flour does in your hands.

I haven’t seen you in weeks.

Not out of choice, I just seem to be stiffer these days,

more leather than I remember,

and with all these open ends to tend to

work, deadlines, the dog, poetry, sleep –

my body is made of failed plasters

I float along in bits; spotted and guttural.

I start thinking about you.

Memories we made in water

fall from my sunbeaten back;

a galaxy of flickering fractals merge with the waves

until I am swimming between synapses.

I have two laps left.

Remember our matching red and dotty cozzies?

Two laps. I miss that costume.

How Mum made us both cry from brushing our hair too hard

and it felt like our brains might actually fall out?

Two.

Or what about Squirtle versus Vaporeon in a sea of stupid Magikarp?

Remember the earring I lost, the one with the oval flower?

Nearly there.

And when I swam so fast you said you saw lightning?

One lap left. I’m making good time.

Or that time I dived head-first into you

because I was trying to beat the older boy into the pool,

and you swam to the shallow end to get away from me?

What about the ice cream, oh my god, the ice cream?

The bite marks in the floats,

Your turquoise toes,

The wasp I wouldn’t swim anywhere near,

Handstands.

When you asked me ‘how come the lines aren’t straight?

They look like Curly Wurly bars.

Keep going.

I told you to stop asking and start looking

and dunked your face under, because I didn’t know either,

but I had to find out as soon as we got home,

because I wanted you to learn everything from me,

remember that?

Remember that?

When light hits a condensed surface

like a pool, it kinks, causing refraction

and the angles of intention change.

Sometimes, the rays cross,

and the path becomes clearer, brighter, a caustic.

I’ll call you when I get home.

By Charley Genever

June 9th 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Refraction

The water caught in my ear creaks

like a full bag of flour does in your hands.

I haven’t seen you in weeks.

Not out of choice, I just seem to be stiffer these days,

more leather than I remember,

and with all these open ends to tend to

work, deadlines, the dog, poetry, sleep –

my body is made of failed plasters

I float along in bits; spotted and guttural.

I start thinking about you.

Memories we made in water

fall from my sunbeaten back;

a galaxy of flickering fractals merge with the waves

until I am swimming between synapses.

I have two laps left.

Remember our matching red and dotty cozzies?

Two laps. I miss that costume.

How Mum made us both cry from brushing our hair too hard

and it felt like our brains might actually fall out?

Two.

Or what about Squirtle versus Vaporeon in a sea of stupid Magikarp?

Remember the earring I lost, the one with the oval flower?

Nearly there.

And when I swam so fast you said you saw lightning?

One lap left. I’m making good time.

Or that time I dived head-first into you

because I was trying to beat the older boy into the pool,

and you swam to the shallow end to get away from me?

What about the ice cream, oh my god, the ice cream?

The bite marks in the floats,

Your turquoise toes,

The wasp I wouldn’t swim anywhere near,

Handstands.

When you asked me ‘how come the lines aren’t straight?

They look like Curly Wurly bars.

Keep going.

I told you to stop asking and start looking

and dunked your face under, because I didn’t know either,

but I had to find out as soon as we got home,

because I wanted you to learn everything from me,

remember that?

Remember that?

When light hits a condensed surface

like a pool, it kinks, causing refraction

and the angles of intention change.

Sometimes, the rays cross,

and the path becomes clearer, brighter, a caustic.

I’ll call you when I get home.

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