SELKIRK BRIDGE

Published in Borders Writers Forum anthology.  'Border Voices: Abridged'  Apparently there are 3000 bridges in the Scottish Borders.  This is a poem about one of them.

A couple of photographs below.  One you can just about see the bridge in the distance.  The other me and Jero directly underneath it. 

                         

Birthed in a rage of Ettrick Water                                        

my broad muscled back carries the strain                         

amid monozygotic town and country.                        

Built to purpose I do not complain.                                                                     

’81 the year of my abrupt birth.                                                          

I have no history to speak off.                                              

Building my own, scavenging rubble

of my tragic ancestors downfall.              

Boots bloodied in victory and defeat.                                   

Bleating befuddled shepherded sheep.                                                              

Cows heavy hoofed to market.                                               

Eventually something had to give.                                           

’77 the year Old Stane Brig’s death.

Caught unawares by his erstwhile friend

complacent of its dormant strength.

Etttrick Water sozzled on cocktails

of wind and rain clung to him, buckled

limbs, ancient heart crashed overwhelmed.

Guilt haunts me at the thought of it.

Must last the centuries as tribute.

No distinction amid town and country.

A neutral conduit of give and take.

I’M NOT THERE:

Previously published in Under the Radar magazine. And Aesthetica Creative Writing Annual.

 

IN THE HERE AND NOW.

I have eyes and I can see.  I can you see you now curled up on your chair.  Book laid on your lap and the puzzled look on your face that asks. 

‘  You can’t what!?’

Now you uncurl your legs from under you and lean forward.   You smile.  You search my face for any sign of it cracking into a smile.  You find none and frown. 

I can see all this.   All this is visible to me.    Your mouth moving framing questions.   I listen to every baffled question you ask and do my best to answer.

But I know I’m no good at explaining something that has no explanation.  I can only say what is.

You press the mute on the TV.  You wonder at your new husband.

I tell you that if I look out the window or open our front door the world is there in all its glory.  The parched green fields beyond the thundering main road traffic.  I know if the both of us stared across at those fields through the early evening breeze I... We would wonder again about the one lonely shiny pure brown horse that stands there so still.  Have we ever seen it in full flow cutting up the earth like its scraggly black and off white neighbours?

Beyond this equine statue would be the trees like clumps of hair on a rapidly

balding head.  High above us birds would flutter and hover and dive.

All this my eyes would blink and take in the change through the seasons; store up images of summer for the stark winter months.

Confusion reigns on your tired face and I regret telling you this now.  But like a dam cracking unseen the moment arrived all of a sudden and…I said it, and I say again. 

I can’t see me.   

You stare at me still searching for the joke but…

I tell you things I have told no-one and you sit so still.

Then, no, please no, it’s no use.  But I don’t tell you this.  You fetch a mirror.   

You’re  sitting on the arm of the chair beside me now.  You hold the mirror in front of us. ‘ There we are.’ You say.   

‘There you are.’ I say. 

I can see you in the mirror I tell you.

But I’m not there.   

I’m just not there.

Nothing.  A blank space next to you.

You don’t believe me.  You still think this is some April fool joke in the middle of March.   I can’t blame you.  I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it and never have.

You’re quiet now.  You’re thinking.  You’re looking right at me as if seeing me for the first time.

What do you see?

What is my face like?

Is it a kind face?  An angry face?

A sad face?

Whatever is there is telling you I’m really and truly not joking.

You sit on my lap and gently hold my face.  Don’t cry.  Please. 

‘ You really have never seen your own face.  You haven’t seen…you.’

They’re not questions this time but I nod anyway.

‘ O love.’ You say.

BACK THEN.

I grew up standing in front of mirrors, glancing at shop windows, pausing before glass doors, staring into puddles.

I grew up asking questions until the day my mother cried and pleaded with me.

‘Stop it.’ 

I did as I was told.  I stopped the standing, the glancing, the pausing, and the staring.   I carried it to the far reaches of my mind and dug the deepest hole and buried it there.

Then the day came when I made a mistake. Sixth year at High School.  Head down walking to the dining room I saw a group standing in front of the notice board pointing and giggling at something pinned up. 

I worked my way to the front and there I wasn’t.  My whole year caught forever.  All smiling down from the notice board.

I knew that I should be third from the left on the back row.  I knew that I had smiled and said ‘cheese.’ with everyone else.

But I wasn’t there.

Only a blank space where I should have been.

A rumble of something breaking free from the far reaches of my mind rolled and grew and crashed against the back of my eyes.

I wasn’t there.

IN THE  HERE AND NOW.

I keep quiet and let you talk.  You fast forward our wedding DVD to the both of us (or so you tell me) standing on the church steps all smiles and waves.   You flick through page after page of our wedding album and point and look at me.

‘ That’s you up dancing.’ You say.

Nothing I tell you.  Only you.  Or whoever else is in the photo.  Your mum and dad smiling at us.  Your sister half way to drunk.  My mother and father sitting silently in the background.

Not me.

Always a space where I should be.

A picture of our honeymoon.  The pool, the hotel a sun kissed tower block.

‘ I’m not there.’ I say.

You begin to cry and I remember the tears when my father died.  I remember them dripping onto my open hand.  I could feel them but I couldn’t see my hand. Only the tears suspended in mid air. 

You hug me.

I can see you, I tell you.  And you can see me. 

I have never seen myself.

BACK THEN.

Every day in my silence I studied my mum and dad till I couldn’t anymore and turned to the photos.  I didn’t want to because I knew I wouldn’t be there.

They were always taking photos.  Of their quiet perfect one and only.   Ten years they had been trying for a family and then I came along. 

Their life was complete. 

I was in every photo and nowhere to be seen.

And either side of the empty space where I should have been they stood.  Smiling and happy and arms around my invisible shoulders, or ruffling my invisible head. 

Who was I like?  Did I have my father’s roman nose?  Did I have my mother’s permanent frown? Like a blind person I touched my face and tried to imagine the outline.

Was I…?  Was I…?

 IN THE HERE AND NOW.

The sudden look of ‘eureka’ on your face and you kiss me and you’re away and running out of the living room.

What for I haven’t a clue.  Please no more photographs. 

I can hear you rummaging about upstairs. It goes quiet for a moment and then there is the thump thump of the floorboards and you’re running down the hall stairs.

Careful careful.

You’re in the living room now and dragging your chair in front of mine. 

‘ Christmas present.’ You say and open the box of pencils.  You already have the sketch pad on your knee.

‘ No.’ I say.

‘ Why?’ You ask.

I don’t know why and say, but…

‘ I’ll…’ You begin.

‘ Tell the truth?’ I say.

‘ Yes.’ You say.

You draw and draw and I feel myself smile at the intense look on your face. I so want to say ‘can I look?’

But I don’t.

You finish with a huge grin and turn the sketch pad towards me.

The grin slowly vanishes.

‘ It must be. ’

‘There’s nothing there.’ I tell you.

BACK THEN

I was the youngest and the oldest child all at once.  We went here and we went there, the three of us, the one of me in the middle looking up from side to side as we walked.  Then one day I didn’t need to look up any more and I could look directly into their eyes.    I searched for me reflected in their eyes.

Nothing.

IN THE HERE AND NOW

It is the time of fears and dark thoughts.  Outside the word is still.  I lie and stare at the shadows on the walls.  I know you’re not sleeping.   Your hand reaches for mine and we turn into each other.

Your slow breathing tastes like cinnamon.  Your hair tickles my eyes.  We fall asleep face to face.    You cry in your sleep.

The hallway is shivery and I can feel your eyes on me as I go downstairs.  The blank drawing sits on top of your chair where you left it.  The pencils lie scattered along the open box.

Hands circle my waist.  You kiss my neck. 

‘It’s okay.’ You say. 

I pick up the pen and paper.

‘Maybe if you try again.’ I say.

‘No.’ You say as the morning sun arrives and you take my face in your hands.

You stare into my eyes.

I have never seen you look more serious. 

‘What do you see?’  You say.

Nothing, I tell you.

You come closer until your face blurs only your eyes are clear and insistent.

‘Look.’   You say.  ‘ Don’t be afraid.  Look.’

Your eyes like green emeralds fragment the light. I try to pull away but you hold firm.

‘Look.’ You say again.

My eyes nip with the effort to keep them open and focussed. 

‘I…No use.’

‘Please.’  You say.  ‘Look.’

Your eyes shudder with the strain and I…and…and…a shape swims through the green depths towards me.   It grows and…You blink and it falls away.

‘Did you see?’  You ask.

The strain slowly relaxes into a throb behind my eyes.

‘Something.’ I say.  ‘ But…’

‘But something.’ You say. 

My eyes settle into a quiet murmur.

‘ But something.’ I say.

 We touch lips. 

‘We’re in no hurry.’ You say.

You kiss the tip of my nose.

‘We’re in no hurry.’ I say.

You brush your lips against my ears.  

 You kiss my eyes.