3 Nov 2005, 4:20am
Writing
by David


The True Story of Barbara Jane Mackle

I.

In the Maple Box-Plant they are pulling in the corners.
43.17 dozen boxes, corresponding to the first run.
They don’t know.
How one holds The Body–the new book.
The others hold copies.

The sheer diabolical nature of the crime
has forced this–
999 blank books
1 ‘true account’–
summery, first-person, breathless, exacting, anonymous

and full of life.
The street-car pulls up alongside the invisible
loading dock and they go off
to their sweet homes.
Rest you miners.

II.

Is it comfortable or is it sketchy?
‘Disturbed,’ the book-seller said. Not recommended
for children under three or for society’s pillars
[to be kidnapped] but–too uncanny–
not many of society’s killers can read. Call the FBI.

(She seems so slightly out of focus.
She seems so OK with boxes it’s hard to say No.)
Anyway, a few mm won’t get anyone fired
and we need the space.

Because in the real book
he’ll have a silencer, he’ll come in swearing,
she’ll call on her cell-phone which hasn’t been invented yet.

And she’ll call, Daddy?
–or some other name.

III.

A souvenir, perhaps. Gramophone.
(Also available as the CD-
sized bonus–comes with the book.)
He’s going to be a medical student.
He’s going to communicate with the dead.
He’s going to order a pizza and forget the tip.
To see him on the book-jacket, jazzman,
fold A-section, B-section, make a list.
Contents include:
cheese, staple, dough, pepperoni, sauce.
Receipt.
(Let the receipt-receipt flutter down
before her.)

IV.

The tight neckerchief, want. The tied-up sunshine.
Malfunctioning part removed, part replaced,
NOT repaired.
The lost and found art of bookmaking.
The never forgotten art of foot-binding.
Because nothing is taken. Even the
care is included, combed up on a scale
accurate to the tenths.

‘Couldn’t move yr left pinkie toe that’s what was so hard about it’ she moaned

‘Oh hey’ they said ‘hefty sink, forbidden dishwater’

(even the hairs of your head)

but it was left to its sores, a few botched crumbs (and mainly its sores)
so the mouth cried

‘Let Me Go’

V.

Her balance.
Secured.