#SampleSunday - June 5th

The next few weeks on sample sunday, I'll be showing samples from old writing folders.  I explain it all out HERE.

This week, two poems: both from the 1980s.  Typewriter early decade, Co-respondent middle decade.

TYPEWRITER ages me.  :-)  I'm not sure if you can replace the rhythm of tiptap, with clickclack.  Because you are missing the essential sound break of a carriage return of the zip.  Only someone who has written on a manual typewriter, may understand what I'm whittling on about.  Or not.

The photo is of my actual typewriter.  Or the model.  My own one, was thrown out some years ago, something I regret.  I was getting rid of a lot of old clutter in my life, and it was important to throw stuff out.  The typewriter you see pictured, is the one thing I disposed of in an entire skip of stuff, that I should have kept.  I rue the day.  Both poems were typed on it.   Changeling was started on it: I still have the first typed sheet.

CO-RESPONDENT  It was quite surprising to me, to re-read this one, and find the image of the new mouth being carved open on skin.  My readers will recognise that imagery from the last few chapters of Changeling.  And there, I'd used it, all those years ago, and that chapter was written in the past 9 months or so.  All that time, the imagery had been there in my mind, awaiting release. Wow.

TYPEWRITER

tiptap

tiptap

tiptap

zip

tiptap

tiptap

tiptap

zip

tiptap

tiptap

tiptap

zip

the most

glorious

sound

in the

whole wide

world

a universe

of sound

in

tiptap

tiptap

tiptap

zip

CO-RESPONDANT

‘So,’ she sniffed

‘you’re divorced

how quaint

What happened?

Another woman?’

‘No’

I said

‘We just

grew

apart.

Grew up.’

I guess.

‘There must be

another woman.’

Their eyes said.

everywhere

all the time

with their

inner understanding

that it probably hurt

too much

to admit

that there was

someone else

They would not be told.

could not hear.

for in their

world

there was only one

reason

one

cause

to desert a

marriage

a

husband

The other woman.

They would not hear.

And I would not speak.

not tell

of the pain

Of the neat line

across my arm

the seam the

doctor had stitched

across the extra

mouth

he had given me

And I would not tell.

of the pain

Of the mottles and marks

where teeth had sunk

too deep

too hard

to heal

And I would not tell.

And I would not tell.

And they would not hear.

So, silently

we made more tea

and supped

silently

as they

thought

of the other woman.