from Blizzard

        5

Something was wrong with the weathergirl's
    smile. Now let's take a look at the chart
for mid-day tomorrow, and it tells
    the same story. If you're going out

wrap up, watch out for those hazardous
    driving conditions. The smile. That's it
from me, a very good night. Nervous.

The children were shouting in the park.
    The sound was pitched on the edge of song,
half-curdled into laughter, a shock
    to the suburban air that seemed long

gone a moment after I'd heard it.
    Some quality of snow, something wrong
with my ears? You nerd, Kev. You're dead meat.


        10

It got into the television.
    There was always a loud fuzz between
Michael Buerk and yourself. Chaos on
    The Late Show, hands waving, Tom Paulin

shouting against the wind. Then a blank.
    Then a palm-tree island on the screen,
streaked with unlikely yellow, blue, pink.

So we all turned to each other, not
    knowing who else to believe. They said
it was just a blip in the climate,
    a volcano, global warming, God.

It had snowed in Zaïre. The North Sea
    was frozen. Already the wolves had
crossed to Scotland. They were on their way.


        13

Da da DADA da da DA da. Swit.
    Swirlywhoop. And the whurble will pfee
wub wub wub. Number wub in the chart.
    Da da DADA de toute façon schwee

woo ah bien d'accord when I'm feeling
    woo oo oo oo oo oo ooh. Jetzt sie
witzg einig. Wump. Getting anything?

The friends we shared our homes with have gone.
    Wrapped in blankets in the dark, we still
hoped to hear the heating coming on
    or that the blipping numbers would tell

our time for us. The last voice to go,
    after the TV, was that sad call
of a trumpet on the radio.


        16

Once there was a fire and people sat
    in the lap of it. Once mothers held
children between their knees. Once the fat
    of a joint of mutton spat and squealed

and soot and snow scrapped in the chimney.
    Once there were cats and the shadows growled.
Once or twice someone told a story.

I went to piss in the snow outside
    and when I came back in she was there
in the hall. She took my hand and said
    upstairs. It was freezing in the bare

darkness. I held her breasts sculpted from
    gooseflesh. Just as I came inside her
the streetlamp flashed once. Upon a time.

from Blizzard by Matthew Francis

published by Faber and Faber.
ISBN 0-571-17854-5.





Copyright © Matthew Francis, 2000.





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