Seraphima Kennedy

[ Biography ]

The Real Uses of Papyrus

To make paper.

Take two sheets of papyrus.
Lay one lengthways,
one widthways,
pound them with a brick
until the sap runs out,
and they are matted together
in a single sheet…

He would slough off my rough skin,
rub me slick with pine oil,
polish me as paper is polished,
paint my eyes with malachite.

He played my heart like a harp,
with his lips,
his tongue,
his hunter’s skill at hitting the mark.

To bring him back,
I would boil the womb of a cat
with a raven’s egg,
silt the Nile up in its bed,

instead,
I anoint images with myrrh
and place them in an empty tomb

his ghost
on my skin
like a scar

his breath in my ear
like the whisper
of papyrus.

Blink if you remember

Berwick, sand and sunlight?
Rooms with high ceilings,
houses of grey stone in Newtown,
better than anything we can afford now?

Do you remember graduation?
Leaving for Ayr in the rain?
You cried at the wheel for a boy you loved, 
while I wished I could drive.

How about Neijiang City,
where dark barges muddy through the river?
We chewed chicken’s feet whole,
spat gristle into sly napkins,
drank baijo till we were sick.

Before that, the airport,milling gap year students,
families.I was desperate to get away,
and interrupted your farewell
to ask you something inane.

Years later you remind me of this,
perhaps on the trip to Ayr,
or pissed at Whistle Binkies,
that it was your father who upset you,
your father you would miss.

He paid for that trip in time,
your time in his life,
his time in yours,
you waited for calls in the night,
credit cards ready
to book you home;
you felt his slow   sacrifice   of breath.

Now as you are with your family
and it’s too soon yet to call
I interrupt you again to say

if you need to remember a life outside
at least his suffering’s over,
blink.

(for N.E., with a line from Paul Farley)