Our Cargo Party: Magda

Our Cargo Party: Magda: Smoking a cigarette i exhale my memory of that night                                     a lover's face appears can anyone retain t...

Zani

I want to be free, says my lover from on high, my lyre at blue coracle speed, between her hand and the sea, eyes opaque as she looks at sky, her cigarettes wait greedily, she's on a funnel gazing spree, a horizon that's bright, she thinks she's a celebrity, the power is choking me, kind but sheds no light, on what she calls her mystery, she'll stand no scrutiny, places she knows she's right, its a short step to eternity, can't you please see, where in exploding certainty, the urge for harmony, fires rage at night.

Zulfina

I'm sat here in the lee, shuddering to be caught, this is not me, my lover is asking, a penny for your thoughts, what is right about infidelity, i see her eyes momentarily, dancing on thorns, read me inconclusively, oh its so useless really, being a liar adrift forlorn, waiting for the next scene, each uncertainty prays reason, will struggle to be born, alongside this feeling, i can't dream of empathy, a broken uneven wall, the booming of the sea, echoed in your call.

Yanni

I am silent like the breeze, we are leaving from Glasgow, i toy at pasta and think about ringing, but i haven't got the energy, she is such a miserable cow, this old friend of Louise, my new Italian girl and me, the American Bar is where she goes, different there from Barlinnie, where she spent time unhappily, i can’t let her know, what's been going on since Disney, she doesn’t really scare me, but thinks we can carry on somehow, brightly shining at our new party, in perfect sun the train's asleep, its almost like i'm going home, i paint my face with ease, it fits me when i feel alone.

Xanthia

Men, the colour of death, ask if we can cope, or if they can help, assist our search for wealth, throw away the rope. unmeasure lengths of distance, what dreams have we kept, they ask, the dopes, sat at the bar like berefts, do they think of us as lepers, like Diane Arbus in New York, laugh at us caress, our tickets from the Pen, the bleeding worm of hope, deep within our breasts, they ask about our breath, how long before we show, in trains on stations left, their look of gravestones.

Veronica

Where do we hope to be, our bodies twist and groan, in wine or over easy, worms of cemetery quarantine, resist their combing, and dance like honey bees, then you my lover seize, this time to make scones, in a house behind the sea, we swore we'd never agree, on Sundays to live alone, sunlight shifts the alley, how beautiful and so lovely, your neck smooth as bone, when my torso pulls free, will you help me see, your face by the water, somewhere far from ecstasy, tell us all we know ?

Sola

Your tune resonates, still hangs in blue trees, a web across my face, was it out side Marseilles, where you sang so clean, the year Lady passed away, couldn't get past your gaze, was shrunk on my heels, still hear that voice raise, you didn't hesitate, down fallen streets, you kept us dancing angel, your ma all broken rage, in that post war scene, before your fame, but what you created, before your disease, still leaves me prostrate, at your feet.