Sneaking out at 4am
It is the lark. One wake-up call.
Then more and louder,
rising notes of almost tune.
The sky’s invisible and visible,
untraceable and full of sound.
Blackbirds lead the chorus
‘leaving, leave you, lovely you’.
The pink horizon sings
‘I love you, lovely, love you’.
He pulls the car door shut,
must go back home to where
his father waits in the metal
cold of April’s early morning.
Yes, I admit, I fantasise
a touch, a hug,
a proper, friendly
Your kisses blow
in my direction.
No. It’s safer to assume
they’re not for me.
I drown in hot adrenalin.
I had forgotten
how besotted feels,
how hard it is to rein it in.
What if I dared?
What if you turned
a fraction further?
… Just imagine.
Pretence began when I became a Somebody.
I stood up taller, lost the flippancy,
adopted dignity because I thought I should.
Acting like a leader wasn’t hard.
My colleagues, easily impressed by title,
listened, seemed convinced by what I said,
although I’d grown no cleverer.
I’m not important nowadays,
so it’s a shock to have to meet a Somebody
who’s famous. Somebody I must impress.
Those years of being tactful are forgotten.
Flippancy is back. Full on. I don’t remember
how a Somebody’s supposed to talk and don’t.
The nobody I was is who I am.
Kathy Gee grew up in a family of historians and archaeologists but decided that museums were warmer than holes in the ground. Widely published in print and online poetry journals and anthologies, Kathy is increasingly interested in collaborative projects – organising a poetry trail at Avoncroft Museum of Buildings and writing prose poems for the contemporary classical piece Suite for the Fallen Soldier. Her first poetry collection – Book of Bones – was published by V. Press in May 2016.