Lostwithiel / by Alex Williamson

 

Where were we again? Lostwithiel.

The dry-damp smell returns first:

 

Garden insinuating into the house

With decaying air, stirring growth.

 

The weight of rain pulling down the sky,

Flora in wan sunlight effervescing:

 

Synthesis of charcoal and wet bark,

Boiling water and cooking grease.

 

Domesticity. Creaking about

On buck-toothed floorboards.

 

Doo-dah, your Dalmatian, shedding

A scrim of fine albino hair, her smell

 

Dominating all others. Basket, blanket,

Biscuits. Shit. Mornings we breakfasted

 

Together, or else with your mother,

Sometimes your sister and her daughter,

 

Or some other waif or stray:

Your mother’s lover; the decorator.

 

Their faces all gone but I still see you

Weaving through the living room,

 

Short-haired and swishing, preparing

Simple meals, or a bowl of hash.

 

We drove through pasture

To Padstow, St Austell and St Ives.

 

Long walks by the Fowey stilled time

To a zero, a naught, a nothingness

 

Of pure leisure, a fallow period

Before serious purpose overtook us:

 

Work, study, adult responsibility,

A pressing distance closing in.

You took me to ‘the site’,

The abandoned holiday camp

 

Where you lived once

In a haze of Special Brew and smack.

 

Your pregnant friend,

Skin stretched tight across her face,

 

Drew hard on her cigarette,

Looked at me, and asked

 

If you were going straight.

We scored some hash, and left

 

Quickly. I noticed that

You didn’t answer her back. 

Before long we began to wonder

What the fuck I was doing there.

We agreed to part and were reunited

In that final week above the lounge,

 

While your mother’s black and white TV

Flickered out its mournful coda.