The Hat-Stand Union Page 6

  by the ghost of my grandfather’s Yorkshire coal.

  I could take or leave the planetarium.

  You collided with Andromeda in your insomnia.

  I was fine with pills.

  You defied shrinks with your in-house mental janitor.

  I sat down on the Tube when travelling just one stop.

  You would never buy mystery meat from a backstreet ‘all you can eat’

  buffet called ‘Puff the Chinese Dragon’.

  I had never bought a sprig of ginger.

  You blamed Gordon Brown for the future death of the sun.

  I blamed the Rich in general while snacking

  on a bite-size cube of decorated fruit cake.

  I thought of Kirsty MacColl at Christmas.

  You thought of your father’s erratic moods.

  I jogged alone on the treadmill in front of a mirror.

  You punched the air with your lacrosse stick in school year-group photos.

  I let potential serial killers use my bathroom after closing time.

  You always packed a toothbrush.

  I owned every Mike Leigh, even the early BBC television stuff.

  You found Career Girls over-acted and plotless.

  I wept outwardly for a week, inwardly for a year.

  You didn’t know who Adrian Mitchell was.

  I couldn’t assemble a pop-up tent.

  You wouldn’t let anyone read your self-penned screenplays.

  I recited poems I wrote yesterday in busy restaurants

  to embarrassed olive-skinned companions.

  You read Sherlock Holmes novels in small print with a magnifying glass.

  Your mum said, ‘Go get your girl.’

  My mum said, ‘Stop proposing to slender-necked lampposts.’

  You plunged the knife deeply and once.

  I supported huge government funding for chocolate sculptures.

  You audibly scoffed during my one-act Hoodie Hamlet.

  I had a subtle nervous twitch triggered by memories of candlelight

  and Leonard Cohen’s ‘The Partisan’.

  You built Jerusalem on England’s green and pleasant land.

  I reinvented the fish pun.

  You closed up like the magic portal.

  I took the long slide down into the pool.

  Corine

  Corine is married now. Let her pass.

  She’s found a fireside decoration

  that talks back. And a gold thread

  of spit from her mouth to another’s.

  Someone to pass the salt. Someone

  who’ll make her a mother. Corine is

  settled now. Let her be. She’s found

  a dolphin to swim with, a post on

  which to lean. Lord knows she’s waited

  patiently. You knew this day would

  come. Why so despondent? Hold on

  to the edges of your eyes; don’t cry.

  Corine is happy. Now say goodbye.

  About the Author

  CAROLINE BIRD is an award-winning poet. She won a major Eric Gregory Award in 2002 and was shortlisted for the Geoffrey Dearmer Prize in 2001. Her first collection, Looking Through Letterboxes, was published in 2002 (when she was just fifteen). She was shortlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize in 2008 and 2010 for her second and third collections, Trouble Came to the Turnip and Watering Can (which received a Poetry Book Society Recommendation), on both occasions being the youngest writer on the list. She was one of the five official poets for the London 2012 Olympics; her poem ‘The Fun Palace’, which celebrates the life and work of Joan Littlewood, is now erected on the Olympic site outside the main stadium.

  She is also a playwright. In February 2012 her children’s musical The Trial of Dennis the Menace was premiered at the Southbank Centre, and in the autumn her radical new version of Euripides’ The Trojan Women enjoyed a seven-week run at the Gate Theatre, to wide critical acclaim.

  Also by Caroline Bird from Carcanet Press

  Looking Through Letterboxes

  Trouble Came to the Turnip

  Watering Can

  Copyright

  Every effort has been made by the publisher to reproduce the formatting of the original print edition in electronic format. However, poem formatting may change according to reading device and font size.

  First published in Great Britain in 2013

  by Carcanet Press Ltd, Alliance House, 30 Cross Street, Manchester M2 7AQ

  This ebook edition first published in 2013

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © Caroline Bird 2013

  The right of Caroline Bird to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  Epub ISBN 978–1–84777–763–8

  Mobi ISBN 978–1–84777–764–5

  The publisher acknowledges financial assistance from Arts Council England