Very much just another blog

The kite

leave a comment »

On Blackheath I am holding a kite, the wind pulls underneath it and hoists it sharp from left to right. I pull back to steady it; working the muscles in my arms, feeling the stretch across my chest.

Scattered on the grass around me lie evening lovers: a man is reading Hemingway to his girlfriend. Hemingway was a sometime misogynist, I think, though his reader today seems not to be. Beyond them a pair lie sleeping: the man curled around the woman and their legs entwined. They look to be safe in love; she turns into him and he moves without waking to give her space. A couple walk passed me, picking their way over the people littered grass. They are white-haired; old, and who am I to dismiss? The summer sun makes them golden: she laughs up at him, and I smile when I see his hand brush over her bum.

All the while as people come and go and leave and kiss, I keep hold of my kite. As gusts of wind yank it across my piece of sky, I tense my arms and steady it back, bending my body eventually into an invisible curve behind me.

I’m staying here as the night rolls in around me, not reeling in and not letting go and watching the moon as it rises and shines and falls. In the morning you will find me wrapped in string and dreaming of golden lovers in high winds.


Written by elikafm

June 22, 2010 at 2:34 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: