Spike Magazine

Brian Patten: Armada

Long, long ago
when everything I was told was believable
and the little I knew was less limited than now,
I stretched belly down on the grass beside a pond
and to the far bank launched a child’s armada.
hidA broken fortress of twigs,
the paper-tissue sails of galleons,
the waterlogged branches of submarines –
all came to ruin and were on flame
in that dusk-red pond.
hidAnd you, mother, stood behind me,
impatient to be going,
old at twenty-three, alone,
thin overcoat flapping.
hidHow closely the past shadows us.
In a hospital a mile or so from that pond
I kneel beside your bed and, closing my eyes,
reach out across forty years to touch once more
that pond’s cool surface,
and it is your cool skin I’m touching;
for as on a pond a child’s paper boat
was blown out of reach
by the smallest gust of wind,
so too have you been blown out of reach
by the smallest whisper of death,
and a childhood memory is sharpened,
and the heart burns as that armada burnt,
long, long ago.

Brian Patten - Armada

[Reproduced with permission]

June 1, 1996 Filed Under: New Writing

Spike Magazine: The Book

The Best Of SpikeMagazine.com - The Interviews

Kindle ebook featuring Spike's interviews with JG Ballard, Will Self, Ralph Steadman, Douglas Coupland, Quentin Crisp, Julie Burchill, Catherine Camus (daughter of Albert Camus) and more. More details

Facebook

Search Spike

Copyright © 1996 - 2019 · Spike Magazine


Disclosure: We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk and affiliated sites.