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Last night

  • Posted on October 12, 2012 at 12:16 am

Tomorrow we shall sleep
when the surf has receded to a distant roar
and my pebbles cease churning, grinding–
drawn and flung, drawn and flung

and the sun is arcing high
with the heat and release that stops all work
and wrack bakes on stones cracking, drying–
torn and wrung, torn and wrung.

Eyes closed we shall drift
on horizons so distant we can’t say where
but sand is soft, forgiving and fine—
dust from stone, dust from stone.

But tonight as we lie
refusing the last-ness in every thought
the noise, the turmoil, the silence, the sigh–
sleep is wrong, sleep is wrong.

2012 © Andie Davidson

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First Fathers’ Day

  • Posted on June 17, 2012 at 7:58 am
This poem celebrates those who find a way to be both trans* and a parent. It is based on something I heard last year, which was lovely. This year is my first such day, and I hope one day I might read it as my own.

I couldn’t find a card
so I drew this flower instead
and wondered if we should
switch to Mothers’ Day.

No. You’re Dad, this is yours and
I never knew your breasts.
Which I still can’t understand
but I do like your dress.

Shall we go out then?
It’s your day, not any day
and I still love you and nothing
changes me from daughter.

Let’s just remember I’m your girl.
Let’s play Daughter’s Day to celebrate
the one who fathered, nurtured, cared
and loved me into who I am.

That’s what we are.
What we always shall be.
Here, I bought you this necklace.
It’s very pretty, don’t you think?

2012 © Andie Davidson

See also:

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Wild strawberries

  • Posted on May 25, 2012 at 8:22 am

wild strawberries
the size of a treat
for a hedge mouse
whose scampering feet
and tiny twitter and whistle
drew enquiring ears and
eager eyes between the leaves.

The wonder of a small world
so different from the miles
in our heavy feet each day.
A new experience of here and there
of running with seeds –
and wild strawberries.

2011 © Andie Davidson

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The long and the short of love

  • Posted on May 23, 2012 at 5:01 pm

Love is a long word
made light as like,
and weighty as the world.

It is a four-letter word
illicit as you like,
if spoken as stolen or sold.

Unconditionally rare,
short and light
as a hook on a lifeline.

Long as a memory,
like a surprise
it is never – expected.

Light as the web that it is,
catching tears
like mist in a lonely hour.

Powerful as death
and long as life,
shortened to nothing by … but.

That’s why your love
is what you mean –
and can never be asked for.

2012 © Andie Davidson

 

See also: Food for love

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Prague spring, 2011

  • Posted on May 9, 2012 at 1:35 pm

In spring 2011, a burial was unearthed, of a male interred as a female, and was promptly billed by the press as ‘WTF? First Gay Caveman!’. In all likelihood the person was transgendered, accepted, even revered as in so many ancestral cultures.

The 1968 Prague Spring was a period of rapid political liberalisation . . .

Five thousand years, layering
this on that, of change on chance
to be dug, this day, these

crouched bones face – respected
male bones placed, inflected
by pots, not knives – east

away from warrior west, in the
suburbs of Prague-to-be: a woman
who is not a man, for

five thousand years, in which
we have learned to write with
fast fingers, blog and fear.

One grave, one loved person, and
five thousand years – from clay tablet
to wired world – in a waste of words.

Not gay. No cave. No vestments.
Just acceptance lost this spring,
in Prague, pressed, and buried.

2012 © Andie Davidson

Published in Realisations.

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