Maud, Gone. (Or: New Morning)

Liam Cruivie | 9 March 2018



Back from the Breton coast,
Sick of a nameless fear,
Back to the dark sea-line
Looking, thinking of all I have lost;
An old song vexes my ear;
But that of Lamech is mine.


- Will you have a drink with me, Dad?
- No.
- Have a drink with him, Tommy. Please.
- I said, No!


Memory (rotting or gnarled).
The monolithic memory plain,
A demarcated g’ology plain.
And the intrusion of fear – penetrates the heart of the monolith.
Straight through the memory plain – the demarcated monolith.
No bleeding uterine bed,
Coarse or uneven
(Like gums, a bed for teeth,
Or bubbles round a straw)
But a cold-cut cross section,
(with B.C. and A.D.),
Black, Cold And Demarcated,
Black and geological - the Bethlehem slouch -
Which clings, like blossoming shards round the heart.


Or a thorny helix, wrapped like wire,
Two harmful yarns, connected,
Greased with milky slime, on fire
And dripping with black pitch.
Anatomy Island: Pit deep in slime.
A lot like coriander seed.
A lot like muck.
What muck is sublime?


Fear (brain gnarled, face crumpled).
Hot and bothered,
Tired in the first flush,
Red in the face of hot embarrassment.
Stabs of fright before bed
And hard in the morning.
I rise at the thought of a gnarled memory.
I keep a damp flower in my blazer pocket.


Short with me, curt,
Wandering hands,
And spurt.
Fucked in the graveyard,
Buried fear
And, scared of being buried here,
Was cremated.
And later, loupin’ er the waw,
A risen’, hard, mechanic wraith -
A French, Breton disease of faith.
And as I come over her now,
Should the debt become obvious?
Caliban plucks Ariel from the sky,
Caliban fucks Ariel in the ass,
And they writhe in the morass.
She simulated fellatio with a battered sausage
And chips like deid weans’ fingers.
So with my heid open, ‘neath her surgeon tooth,
An emanation of revealed truth
Is a brain spilling out from the rear.
And nevertheless I tossed up
An atavism of muted fear.


Now the tweed blazer, the arch-conservative and the strident, holy imam.
(The eternal “I AM”)
Hesitated by the threshold and stalled.
Got so far as my carpeted hall,
And a tumour interceded there:
“What happened to your atheism? As I recall,
You talked a good game and held me in thrall.”
Now the conservative put on the blazer, and his arm round the imam,
And just like that, they became but one man.
Whence came the reply:
“I saw God in the German car
I saw God in the klinging telephone
I saw her in moustaches of lager foam
And in the hangover, a liminal zone!”
So I knit up my skull and the parties, subsume.
In the wholeness of me, I correctly assume
That they constitute less than a jot.
To the wholeness of me,
Was für ein’ Schrott!
I send them down like Down’s Syndrome abortions, Love!
Down alleys off the Tiergartenstraße.
Was für ein’ Schrott!


6. (2 x 2x Refrains)
“(I will) ennoble myself with improving sentiments
(I’m going to) ennoble myself with improving sentiments!”
And wake up every day sadder and wiser.
And wake up every day sadder and wiser.
Like the damp flower in the corduroy blazer,
I rise at the rot of your memory.

Please reload

More Stories

Philosophy: Morality is Logical

January 14, 2019

Please reload


October 22, 2018

October 17, 2018

October 10, 2018

Please reload

The Medusa Review

Follow Us

  • Facebook Social Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon