From 17 LETTERS
1.
Dear Tenant, whatever pleasure it gives me
To disturb you while you’re
sleeping: Hurrah!!
So
when was the last time you
Cleaned, for Wonder, what you probably call
"Your" room? I do not know from
Whence you come but this is 1937
And we do things in a modern
Way
these days. It’s “Nous disons Non”
(As we say in the Old Country)
To break any of the lease conditions.
I don’t care what your
parents do.
In
the Old Country conditions were grim,
But where we are’s a far cry
From where we were. We are not
Any longer on a constant war footing.
I suggest you don’t
ignore this poem.
My
husband has a great big fist.
2.
Dear Jake, if you were feeling cold
It was
because you didn’t put on
Your yak skin coat. Soon we’ll be
Back in congenial territory but until then
For love of God’s love stop complaining
And
think about how everything has its
Shining side. It is true: everything has
Its shining side. You remember your little
Age, how I used to make examination
Along tracks in the country
and leave
You
alone to find your way miles
Back to where I was hiding? Everything
Was always for proper good. When it’s
Your turn to say a little something
I will let you know it. Deliver
My cigarettes
to me. I rather think
They are in the box for gloves.
3.
Dear Mandy, our separate lives have become
Entangled
and, as lines tangled, are high
On the list of difficult things but
Our small world of quiet is turned
And I am become a nervous one.
Although I seem trustworthy
No, I am
Not.
That is because I mistrust marriage.
I cannot explain many things you and
The majority of lives have to do
With (My God! You are almost right
Inside my squeeze!). Hence
I fall lower
Every
flaming hour. When I accept you
I know everything which I cannot make.
Finally you smack up against a wall.
It’s like that line from that film:
"A man’s gotta
know his limitations, Briggs"
Or he will just explode. I’m sorry.
4.
Dear Toby, how was the geometry exam?
Mother has said you’ve
had some problem
With
the florist’s son again. Do you
Think he is all there? I am
Certain you are too intelligent to be
Seduced by beauty alone. He does not
Make what we made and is
not
Alert
to lament the loss. Anyway, to
Happier things: Alistair’s Exhibition opens on Saturday
At The Loft, his “red and white”
Show. I hope you can make
the
Party.
Alistair will be happy to see
You. He’s forgotten all about Christmas and
I’m sure you have too. Can we
Perhaps take some minutes together to agree
Between each other how we
all feel?
My spirit of adventure is still alive.
5.
Dear Lucy, your mark was all over
The Dover Road job thus I
assume
You’re
no longer at the usual address
So I am probably speaking to myself.
I do not mind speaking to myself.
You sort of become used to it,
And at least are guaranteed
decent conversation.
Oh Lucy, a life of such crime
Is romantic in an upside-down type of
Sherlock Holmes type of way. I think
Very often of you, those little yelps.
But more I am interested
in keeping
The
clean and unspotted house up together.
Dougie and I are thinking of redecorating
The life room but we are arguing
About the colors. Nothing dumb. He always
Swims against my changes
like a child.
6.
Dear Cartographers’ Royal Society
of Great Britain,
Her
Dominions (major and minor), economically dependent
Or not, can I say how disappointed
I am in you? I am trying
Not to be tiresome but what’s tiresome
To you is actually plain
common sense.
Now
my kitchen is full of ants.
What, pray, is the point of ants?
Do ants serve any purpose at all?
Are they part of any food chain?
Who or what would eat an ant?
Anyroad, Dear Cartographers of Great Britain
etcetera,
I
am in a pretty grouchy mood:
Yesterday I used one of your cartographs
And I got lost. Completely absolutely lost.
Incidentally, I am aware
that the connection
Between you and ants is somewhat frivolous.
7.
Dear Jethro, everything is pure and clean
Here
in the Heaven of Newness Shining.
At long last my reward is begun.
The very first time I saw God
He inclined to a lamppost, smoked deeply
A cigarette, in conversation
with a girl
Who
was locked into looking exactly like
One of my former wives. I pray
I don’t collide with one of them.
Flowers around the ankles of God, birds
Sang chirrupy bird songs
above his head,
In
my heart lots of bright warm
Window lights went on and doors were
Thrown wide open for any visitors who
Might come along casually. You know what
I’m talking about?
I thought as not.
Make
a plan and stick to it.
Copyright © 2008, Martin
Stannard
