five years passed
before Denise
admitted to herself
that they were never
going to get it together
yes, they were close
but it was like there was
something missing
and although they
worked on it together,
talked things through,
looked at it from all angles,
tried new things out
(this way and that),
it never seemed
quite right
why Mike should think
that flat-pack assembly
was such a good idea,
Denise would never know
she was always in the kitchen at parties,
hiding in the vegetable rack,
wondering when it might be safe
to slip out the back
The last Thursday of every month was Book Group,
When the books would gather together
To discuss Graham.
“He has barely touched me I am sure I am
Only here so he can show off to his friends,”
Complained Ulysses, in a stream of self-consciousness.
“Consider yourself lucky,” cried Fifty Shades of Grey.
“He’s always got his dirty hands all over me. Look at my cracked
spine and turned down corners!”
“At least he’s prepared to put you two on display,” sobbed
Coping with Erectile Dysfunction, limply, from behind
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
“The problem isn’t him, it’s you,” declared the Oxford English Dictionary, with meaning.
“You get too involved. With me, it’s just a quick in and out.
We have an understanding.”
“That’s all very well for you to say, pronounce, utter, articulate,”
muttered Roget’s Thesaurus, who always had some words
To add to the conversation.
Graham entered the room, carrying a box.
Dipping into it, he pulled out a slim, shiny metal object.
He stared at it all night, his interest kindled.
The books sat silently on the shelf.
it’s amazing
what you can buy online nowadays,
thought Maureen,
adding the Democratic Republic of the Congo
to her basket
she wasn’t prepared to pay the extra
for same day delivery, though
i put down my Guardian,
remove my cardigan,
other clothes follow
slowly,
sliding seductively
to the floor
i’m a snake shedding its skin
peeling
revealing
on the hunt
for some healing
garments slip
i bite my lip
in anticipation
of emancipation
But then the doctor turns around and says,
“You can keep your underpants on, Mr Bilston.”
it was like
she’d swallowed
the dictionary
not because of her
voluminous vocabulary
and vaniloquent verbosity
but the fact she had
an abnormally ample
Adam’s apple
I bought a smoking jacket
As I thought it would amaze her
But she just got some matches
And turned it to a blazer.
you had bags of bags
in your bags
you kept more bags
all bagged up
in bags for life
if there was a competition for number of bags
you would have it
in the bag
i don’t know why you needed so many bags
it’s not as if you had anything to put in them
except other bags
I am a book.
But one of those books
With an aspiration beyond its station,
A pale imitation of Nabakovian narration.
Characterisation never the strongest,
I’m forever on the longlist,
Always the prize-maid, but never the prize
(And do mind that plot-hole).
You are a book.
The Turko-Polish Technical Dictionary
Of Hydraulic Engineering, to be precise.
You are far from concise
And run into three volumes
With online supplementary material,
(Including downloadable PowerPoint slides).
I have very little idea how to read you
Or whether I should even try.
But still we sit side-by-side,
On the shelf,
Our companionable silence
Speaking volumes.
your love of origami
was uncontrolled
for reasons that were
manifold
but it soon decreased
and began to irk
what with all that
paperwork
Brian Bilston 