Poems/photos by Ben Webb and Pam Thompson (2)


Leap

You must have thought for a moment

your paws were wings

and forgetting height

launched yourself from

the highest branch, the one that waved

at the clouds, at the moon, which,

even though you were falling,

shone a soft silver light,

stayed with you as you lay

stiff and still for the students

out of class hunting a last

minute shot for their portfolios.

Poem: Pam Thompson

Image: Ben Webb

The layout of this poem differs slightly from what Ben intended. Sorry Ben!

DARK HOUSE

TEN POINTS is on his way home when he notices ZERO on his driveway, blocking his entrance. ZERO looks mad and I think TEN POINTS knows why.

[Somewhere in LONDON, probably CLAPHAM.]

TEN POINTS: How long have you been there for?

ZERO: Does it matter? I‘ve decided we shouldn‘t have a fight.

TEN POINTS: We might fight. [pause] Do you want to fight with me?

ZERO: [Pause] No you’re stronger then me, and if I hurt you, he’d be upset

TEN POINTS: He’d be upset if I hurt you too, you know?

ZERO: No he wouldn’t, don’t be so fucking ridiculous. Do you fuck a lot?

TEN POINTS: What?

ZERO: Do you fuck a lot?

TEN POINTS: No I heard what you said, I just couldn’t believe you were asking, its none of your business at all really is it.

ZERO: Of course its my business, he was mine before he was yours.

TEN POINTS: he was yours?

ZERO: Yes.

TEN POINTS: And how many times did you fuck him?

ZERO’S face is to stung red.

TEN POINTS: [cont.] Exactly. Now get out of his life like he asked you too.

ZERO: I know why he thinks you’re better then me.

TEN POINTS: Ok?

ZERO: Yeah, its because you’re black and he likes black men and I’m not black.

TEN POINT’S laughs

ZERO: [cont.] Yeah and also I googled you and you’ve been on TV in Denmark. I bet he liked that.

TEN POINTS: Yeah.

ZERO: You were on Scenen Er Din, which is like Search for the Stars is in America, except its on in Denmark and no one watches it. You didn’t win.

TEN POINTS: I thought I asked you to leave.

ZERO: And also I’m uglier then you and don’t have your nice body. You’re sort of stocky,

TEN POINTS: I should kill you.

TEN POINTS stares at ZERO and the air turns serious. ZERO doesn’t care anymore.

ZERO: And I should kill you.

Poem: Ben Webb

Image: Pam Thompson

X-Ray: Cat Epic

Who told her she could slink

her scruff cat darkness

through the curtain’s envelope;

be oblivious to the blitz

of attention her absence would bring?

Cigarette smoke rises like tension.

Ragged cat of transition,

becoming feathers, becoming ferns

I love you as broken air

swings outside. I love

your unseen bones.

Dragging you back

would be as pointless as

trying to find a misplaced thought.

Cat, you are not past.

The room fizzes

in a blotting-paper thin

storm of particles.

Poem: Pam Thompson

Image: Ben Webb


Lights and Cubicles

The very tiny changing room has me on my tip toes and stumbling as not to tumble into the wall
I sort of dance as I unplug my knee cap and unscrew the ankle.
One of the screws is rusty.
The lower leg drops with THUD and I roll the meat under the cubical door into the next one
Where Bernard is waiting desperately for it.
He thinks I can’t hear him with his sweaty palms,
Frantically squeezing the bottle of tartar sauce: “Bernard! At least taste it first before you cover it in condiments.”
He sort of groans, but I think he’s doing what I tell him over there.
I’m pretty sure Bernard has a drinking problem, he always looks very sweaty to me.

Standing on one, I sort of hack at my right shoulder and it comes away easier then I imagined.
GREAT NEWS actually, because Sarah is starving. “Sarah Darling!” I yell over the wall –
She groans and I toss it too her – I wonder if I can call that a birthday present? You see I owe her one, can I count that as a birthday present do you think?
I must remember to thank her for mine.

The fingers from the left unscrew individually and after checking each nail for filth (can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?) I throw them like candies to the idiots, third, fourth and sixth cubicle.
They love nibbles [insert joke about “finger foods”]
Oh ha!

My penis and pelvis are slid beneath the door and packed and stamped, sent off and away
I owe them to someone abroad who wanted to see me naked on the internet.
I thought it would be a nice gesture.
Ear to a queer.
Mouth to friend from school.
My mother wanted my lungs (she’s too polite to ask, but I can tell!)
Georgina wanted my finger nails
And Hannah the one’s from my toes
Rachel wants my kidney.
Adele wants my brain (all of it! I know!)
My brother wants my womb in case his girlfriend’s doesn’t work.
God wants my soul.
I gave my heart to Dad

Poem: Ben Webb

Image: Pam Thompson

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