MICHAEL JAMES TREACY

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The Poetry Of...
Michael James Treacy........

He's OK

Hi, Simon.

I saw him yesterday;
he's OK.

Looks like you:
big, strapping lad.

5 A-levels!
Earned his place at university;
punched the air in triumph.

You should be proud.

He's specialising
in maths and physics;

spoke about
the importance
of such subjects
in a modern world:

impressive kid.

Silly fool's fallen in love.

Smashing girl:
laughing eyes.

They're star-crossed lovers:
exploring,
giggling,
holding,
shining.

I ambushed him:
had a quiet word,

"Your Dad
would tell you
to wear a condom."

He said,
"Fuck off,
uncle Mick."

Gave me a wink.

He's OK;
I'll see him again next week.

RIP, Simon.

I Saw My Old Mate Again

I couldn't see him...

then the cloud shifted
and there he was:

glittering in the night sky,
hovering over the greenhouse
with his tail pointing to The Lickeys.

I remembered that time...

a small boy
with a tall father,
seeking from a different garden.

I wondered when my kind
had first met him.

Did they gaze at the night sky,
see him,
introduce themselves
as Homo Sapien:
the upright ape-man?

They must have understood his shape
and named him, 'The Plough.'

They could not have known
he was part of Ursa Major...

or perhaps they did.

I wondered
how many generations
had died
to permit me
to speak to him last night.

In an upwardly mobile world,
it's good to know
that some things never change.

I've shown my
children where he is;

I hope they'll take a moment
to gaze at the night sky,
say hello to him
and remember me.

Back In '69

...and when this curly girlie
with winsome hip
and sparkling eye
boldly asked,

"Will you show me
your manhood?"

I obliged:
machismo on display –
showed her what I'd got.

We tripped
through winter's
pristine hoar...

she lied
that I was handsome.

Then realisation hit me
when she skipped away:
hooting with laughter,
clapping wildly,
singing a ditty,
dancing a jig;
shouting out,

"Gotcha!
I only asked
because I wanted
to see your manhood."

I was devastated, debased:
lost my faith in human nature

...and worst of all...

I got frostbite in my extremity
because I exposed myself
during the coldest spell
in almost 18 years:

severe air-frost,
chill factor minus ten;

when the world was new
and the sun was nigh;

in the early morn,
at the start of year;

when I was young
back in '69.

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