Elaine Randell
COUPLES
“Put your tooth back in your pocket” she says, “don’t go on at me” he answers but stuffs his hands deeper into his jacket pocket, “if I have told you once I have told you 100 times looking at it isn’t going to make it any better”. Norman’s tooth had fallen away two days ago, it was a front one that had fallen from the Maryland bridge, he was very worried he would lose it and he put it in some tissue paper in the bottom of his pocket ready for when he saw the dentist in 3 days time. He liked to reassure himself that it was still there. She often went on at him no matter what he did, it didn’t seem to matter what it was. He felt old and inadequate particularly with the missing tooth. They were out for the day, they had been shopping, he bought her flowers, she liked that but he had bought the wrong ones, “you know I don’t like carnations” she said “they remind me of garage flowers, the flowers they sell on the forecourt, you could have been a bit more imaginative, lilies or something”. “I thought you liked pinks” he said, “you liked them when I grew them in the garden in Somerset.” When he did see the dentist he couldn’t find the tooth, he thought he found it but it turned out to be a small piece of grit in the bottom of his jacket. “That’s alright” the dentist said, “I can easily make another one”. When he got home and told her, “didn’t I say you would lose it, I told you to keep it in your pocket and not touch it”.
FAMILY
On the plane in front of me a couple are talking, between them is a small child, probably three years old. The man says, “so you are going to throw up, I told you when you had that vodka you are going to throw up but you are always f….ing drunk, when we get land you are going to go to your mother’s you are not coming home with me”. The woman is slumped against the window, the child is laying on top of the mother with a blanket over him with just his head above. The man is agitated, large and red faced, no hair and is drinking vodka from the duty free bottle. The mother asks, “How much Calpol did you give him,” he says, “enough”. The woman replies, “and now you are poisoning my kid, drugging him up”. The man says, “I am just giving him enough so that he sleeps during the flight”. The woman says, “I don’t know what to do anymore”. The man says, “I’ve told you, you are going to your mother’s you are not coming home with us, you are an f….ing drunk”. The boy starts to cry, whimpering and then he starts crying loudly, the mother says, pointing to the air hostess, “you see that lady there, that lady with the hat on, I am going to ask her to put you out of the plane door, we are up in the sky, you know what will happen to you then don’t you, you will die”. The boy starts screaming, the mother tries to get up from her seat but staggers back announcing that she is going to throw up.
A few minutes later the woman is sick, the child is screaming and the father gets up and starts wandering about the plane looking for his friends. He finds them, they are only a few seats away, laughing. The mother is being helped by the air stewardess, she is being very sick. Eventually she stops, the child is now sound asleep and the mother sleeps too. At Gatwick they are standing by the luggage carousel, the man stands apart from the woman and the child is running round in circles. “What’s wrong with you now, bloody mental you are,” the mother shouts.
HE FRIGHTENED AWAY THE BEST OF OUR HEALTH
Limping, the tall days branch into spasm; his bleached face torn into
the scarlet letters of his heart, the beseeching way of him sidles up by the Bank Street café..
Snatches of sleep, the foundry shudders.
his arm across her face, he saw it twice. Swiped at her eyelid he did and then heaved himself
into the wicker chair, newspaper across him, her, invisible to him.
Across the tarmac the same bruising sewn lines of faces weathered with gristle
the slap of a June winter in the town between the broken sky and run of pain.
He couldn’t ask for his mother to stay but together they sank into the milky dream that was the best of what they had.
DECEMBER ANEMONES
for Polly
You bring them wrapped in goodness
as we stand sentry
to the new generation
while they determine,
light upon their own days of unease and bliss.
The sunlight does not yet fade us
nor will fear and shame pull us
downward but rising from regret with striving
to make maternal darn and repair.
The garden saw us look out from our vantage point
across the water
valuing all that we know.
Indigo, red, plum, bright violet, you brought them
Anemones, symbols of protection wrapped in good.
“Put your tooth back in your pocket” she says, “don’t go on at me” he answers but stuffs his hands deeper into his jacket pocket, “if I have told you once I have told you 100 times looking at it isn’t going to make it any better”. Norman’s tooth had fallen away two days ago, it was a front one that had fallen from the Maryland bridge, he was very worried he would lose it and he put it in some tissue paper in the bottom of his pocket ready for when he saw the dentist in 3 days time. He liked to reassure himself that it was still there. She often went on at him no matter what he did, it didn’t seem to matter what it was. He felt old and inadequate particularly with the missing tooth. They were out for the day, they had been shopping, he bought her flowers, she liked that but he had bought the wrong ones, “you know I don’t like carnations” she said “they remind me of garage flowers, the flowers they sell on the forecourt, you could have been a bit more imaginative, lilies or something”. “I thought you liked pinks” he said, “you liked them when I grew them in the garden in Somerset.” When he did see the dentist he couldn’t find the tooth, he thought he found it but it turned out to be a small piece of grit in the bottom of his jacket. “That’s alright” the dentist said, “I can easily make another one”. When he got home and told her, “didn’t I say you would lose it, I told you to keep it in your pocket and not touch it”.
FAMILY
On the plane in front of me a couple are talking, between them is a small child, probably three years old. The man says, “so you are going to throw up, I told you when you had that vodka you are going to throw up but you are always f….ing drunk, when we get land you are going to go to your mother’s you are not coming home with me”. The woman is slumped against the window, the child is laying on top of the mother with a blanket over him with just his head above. The man is agitated, large and red faced, no hair and is drinking vodka from the duty free bottle. The mother asks, “How much Calpol did you give him,” he says, “enough”. The woman replies, “and now you are poisoning my kid, drugging him up”. The man says, “I am just giving him enough so that he sleeps during the flight”. The woman says, “I don’t know what to do anymore”. The man says, “I’ve told you, you are going to your mother’s you are not coming home with us, you are an f….ing drunk”. The boy starts to cry, whimpering and then he starts crying loudly, the mother says, pointing to the air hostess, “you see that lady there, that lady with the hat on, I am going to ask her to put you out of the plane door, we are up in the sky, you know what will happen to you then don’t you, you will die”. The boy starts screaming, the mother tries to get up from her seat but staggers back announcing that she is going to throw up.
A few minutes later the woman is sick, the child is screaming and the father gets up and starts wandering about the plane looking for his friends. He finds them, they are only a few seats away, laughing. The mother is being helped by the air stewardess, she is being very sick. Eventually she stops, the child is now sound asleep and the mother sleeps too. At Gatwick they are standing by the luggage carousel, the man stands apart from the woman and the child is running round in circles. “What’s wrong with you now, bloody mental you are,” the mother shouts.
HE FRIGHTENED AWAY THE BEST OF OUR HEALTH
Limping, the tall days branch into spasm; his bleached face torn into
the scarlet letters of his heart, the beseeching way of him sidles up by the Bank Street café..
Snatches of sleep, the foundry shudders.
his arm across her face, he saw it twice. Swiped at her eyelid he did and then heaved himself
into the wicker chair, newspaper across him, her, invisible to him.
Across the tarmac the same bruising sewn lines of faces weathered with gristle
the slap of a June winter in the town between the broken sky and run of pain.
He couldn’t ask for his mother to stay but together they sank into the milky dream that was the best of what they had.
DECEMBER ANEMONES
for Polly
You bring them wrapped in goodness
as we stand sentry
to the new generation
while they determine,
light upon their own days of unease and bliss.
The sunlight does not yet fade us
nor will fear and shame pull us
downward but rising from regret with striving
to make maternal darn and repair.
The garden saw us look out from our vantage point
across the water
valuing all that we know.
Indigo, red, plum, bright violet, you brought them
Anemones, symbols of protection wrapped in good.
Copyright © Elaine Randell 2019
Elaine Randell started Amazing Grace poetry magazine in the 1960s and subsequently Secret Books, publishing Tom Raworth, Allen Fisher, Paul Matthews and Barry MacSweeney, to whom she was married from 1973-1979. Her first publication, Songs of Hesperus, appeared in 1972 (Curiously Strong); 13 other books have appeared since. Her Selected Poems (2006). Faulty Mothering (2011), inspired by her work over many years with adoptive children and their families, and The Meaning of Things (2017) were all published by Shearsman. She lives on Romney Marsh, where she keeps Soay sheep, chickens and English setter dogs, and continues to work as a child and family psychotherapist and social worker. Her work appeared in the second print issue of Molly Bloom.
