Pinocchio
by and published in Edition Eleven of Pomegranate
- What was that? For a second, I thought you had a face.
A lovely face. Seen only at dawn when time is
4 o’clocking my room with blue light, choking my
Colour-collage hangings that swim with fabrics,
swims with blue swash, vivid soaking, a bale of coats,
a hammock of sleeves, a string of gossamer scarves-
My mannequin- I thought you had a face- instead of being
all stitches, criss-crosses, blush of tailor chalk touches-
In this blue- your head becomes her with velvet-plush lips,
A growing shy-shallow peek of nose, a cedar pale
bloom of skin, softening over the arched backs of stitches-
Two pearls for eyes- shrinking back from non-existing-
Hair- breaking in a nectareous wave
Breaks in two against morning’s bitter slate.
I am Geppetto. ‘When you wish upon a falling star’,
is not my favourite song. I like turquoise and the
grace of tuna. I’d like some wine and a crust,
A tune to hum, and more than a glimpse of my love-
My tailor’s mannequin- how I wish you were not just
Some lifeless canvas weave, a
26” waist with a 32” bust.
James Coghill
James Coghill has so far managed to come runner up twice in the FYP of the year award (he really does it just for the weird food). Other than poetry, he enjoys wearing top hats and doing Judo (although not all at the same time).