poem

Helen Farish Underground City • My Casablanca

Underground City

As I read I convince myself

I remember it, that road trip, the lake

passed on the way, yes the lake,

and the underground city, Kaymakli,

from which I emerged to find the sky

red. Unforgatable I describe the sunset,

the experience of walking up into it.

Two things move – the smoke, an obedient

line from every square white house, and a woman,

unseeing, in a long white head-dress.

Once upon a time I stood there

in her world and she walked past.

My Casablanca

He threw me in the air and said

 What a brilliant idea! I loved being

an idea, weightless of course like all

ideas and therefore easy to throw

into the air hanging about

outside his front door.

I wonder where I got the courage

to hail a taxi and surprise him, why I wasn’t

like my mother waiting for a partner

at the dance? I’ve never been very content

to hang about, but I could have stayed

(brilliant) in the air he threw me into forever.