A Lipstick Feminist Addresses Newton

                         To see further who
                         needs the shoulders of giants?
                         I wear stilettos.

The Ghost Of My Father

I'm haunted by the ghost of my father.
He stalks a parallel universe that
I glimpse occasionally in shop windows.
I say occasionally, but, honestly,
It's becoming more and more frequent now.
And I’m slowly having to come to terms
With peripheral images that once shocked.


Dad was there when my new passport arrived,
Staring at me from pages two and three.
And in all the latest holiday snaps
He is standing, smiling, there at the back.
Worst of all though, every morning when I
Look in the mirror, it’s him there, not me.
I am simile become metaphor.

Three Oncologists

Three figures though the blur of tears;

Peering at you over their shoulders.
An X-ray.
Indistinct mass:
Soft edged but tumour-dense.
The streaks of blood vessels feeding growth. Carrying off cells to      metastasize elsewhere?

Three oncologists conferring quietly,
Regardingly, confidently.
An X-ray.
Indistinct mass,
Visibly shrinking at the margins.
The streaks of blood vessels carrying drugs to their target.

Three scientists fading into the background,
Their work done.
An X-ray.
Indistinct mass,
Fading fast.
The streaks of tears on joyful cheeks.

Richard Blanco chosen to read Inaugural Poem

I was interested to read today that Richard Blanco (a poet of whom I had never previously heard) will read a poem (presumably an original composition of his own) at President Obama’s second inauguration.

Richard Blanco will become only the fifth inaugural poet (after Robert Frost in 1961, Maya Angelou in 1993, Miller ­Williams in 1997, and Elizabeth Alexander in 2009).

What's wrong with the Republicans?  Do they think poetry is only for Democrats?

Oh, and Beyonce will sing the national anthem!

The Monday after the second Wednesday in December

We didn't vote for him.

We couldn't; we weren't in the country on election day.  We couldn't apply for an absentee ballot either.  We hadn't registered to vote.

We couldn't you see, we aren't citizens.  We aren't even residents, legal or otherwise.  We live in Scotland.

We would have voted for him if we could.

We don't usually watch the TV news in the morning.  If the TV is on it's for our son to watch cartoons while he waits for the school bus.

So why, that morning in November, were we sitting on the sofa watching the news, our breakfast bowls perched unsteadily on our knees as we punched the air and chanted "four more years, four more years"?  Is it just because the world sleeps safer when there is a Democrat in the oval office?

We chatted about it later over dinner. Her feelings on the matter were much the same as mine.  It was more than sleeping safer in our beds.  More than "The West Wing" making US politics seem so much more interesting than UK politics.  More than wanting the (moderate) left to triumph everywhere. 

It was that, when a black man whose middle name is "Hussein" and who has come out in favour of gay marriage can get re-elected President of the United States of America, it gives us all, wherever we are and whatever our dreams - to re-state the man himself - the audacity to hope.




                         Constitutional
                         Convention approves late vote -
                         Electoral College