Four Poems by Matthew Caley

The Bubble

after Jean Gautier, loosely

breathe out the bubble appears
an explosion
about to burst an idea
— please anything but an idea! —
wafting on its own propulsion
transparent star
glass globe
or opal pendant from an earlobe
ovum a perfection on the verge
of error
a simulacra
of a screen-saver’s
mazy shine
looping its loops of colour
even before log-in
the whole damn world
in its taut circumference
window-streaked spherical
a tear shed for its own
brief existence
one click one scroll one nudge
a tick of tinnitus in your ear
one burp and it’s gone

The Lamps

after Marie Krysinska, loosely

go sisterhood of lamps —
lamps with long-serving
dimmer-switches lamps
of objectifying gaze
utterly bent angle-poises
impudent bedside lamps
igniting fair hairs on our spines
change to lamps
that offer their resignation
then un-plug lamps
that smother us
in grey chiffon
or sheer gauze

tucked-in by the veined hands
of our slightly-stooped dresser
last lamp
of the late-night reader
putting its pale hat
on the table
lamp-light on the bare shoulders of
— scattered freckles — urban-fox
coked-up revellers
ATM’s up-skirting filter-elms
then you my pious sister
my alarm-light sounding off
waking us to all these stars
of the earth

Roses at Night

after Renée Vivien, loosely

well there’s your sea-roses there —
roses of twilight
and you bringing them in
armfuls of roses
so fulsome I smell them before
I see you the sun
sprinkling its highlights
mica-glint rose-dust
exposed in your hair
— whatever — under which is a rose-blush
and it’s well-known that
night can’t drain
the colour from a rose
unless half-asleep my eyes half-shut
while I do the waiting thing not knowing for what
as I stand shielding from the brassy wind off the sea
this sea red-pitted like a gong
then here you are out of it
with an armful of roses
for me
sound-roses sea-roses sky-roses
drenched whatever
all the colours of longing

The Wish

after Gérard d'Houville aka Marie de Régnier, loosely

I want absolutely nothing
from men their wanton wishes
only make me yawn
they are all forget and falsify —
I want merely to lie under grape-vine
and apple-tree dowsing
in my own deep orchard
giving my imprimatur
to the sky-high community
of the surrounding woods
to the hoofed-faun
the high-horned-sprite even The Satyr
hooves horns and fingers
gooey from my previously unpicked

yellowing peaches
— which of course they’ve just nicked —
I bequeath all my worldly goods
my vainest wishes
for they’ve split the summer-fig
the irrepressible strawberry
the slyest greengage
for they turned the age
completely topsy-turvy
from funereal to fun until it reaches
that Past Age when
with my kink my upended lashes
I might have been taken
for a faun

Matthew Caley’s To Abandon Wizardry, published by Bloodaxe in November 2023, is his seventh full-length collection. His first, Thirst (Slow Dancer, 1999), was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection. Then came 'lost' second collection Professor Glass (actually published by Donut in 2011); The Scene of My Former Triumph (Wrecking Ball, 2005); then three further Bloodaxe titles — Apparently (2010), Rake (2016) and Trawlerman's Turquoise (2019). Prophecy Is Easy, a pamphlet of very loose versions from French twentieth-century poets, was published by Blueprint in 2021. He lives in London with the Czech-born artist Pavla Alchin. They have two daughters, Iris and Mina.