Chris McCabe (Dagenham, Brixton, London, UK): Two Poems

THE MANNEQUINS

The Mannequins were premature,
their suits too big—
sport sacks, catnapped shoulders—
and so they shared time—
across wristwatches like grass—
grasshoppers in a milk-dish—
while cameras grazed red bricks—
swans at ease—
so the Mannequins took art careers—
ice-cream vans, carousels in funny mirrors,
began at a Gallery called
WELCOME TO THE CRYPT—
as before, they arrived early—
to read over their notes—
and drink enough coffee—

MAGPIES

GUINNESS is a kind of meat
a sustenance

that stains us
(with excess)

the Teddy slick
of oil & cream

in one magpie’s tail—
it was not your heart,

you said,

that stirred beyond
the myth for this,

these—

killer-whale birds—

© Chris McCabe 2009