A Clockwise Direction (revised)

[billy]

could you please advertise us to your friends over there....if you have any
just kidding around, i'm in the process of leaving some feedback sorry for getting to it late.

---

I found the last remaining wedding photo
behind a doll in our daughter’s room. why not 'Russian doll' and drop the next line, which feels wordy and tacked on?
Russian, as it happens, the doll that is,
though I read very little into that;
there are layers of dust upon dust in the loft strong image
and I’m loathe to consider conversion
at this late stage in the game. feels unecessary

I placed it on the bookshelf where O meets P; another good image
I’d have liked it before your favourite author
but her shelf’s too close to the ground.
My books are in alphabetical order; this has already been inferred
I wake at 7 to clean and tidy
each day in a clockwise direction -
starting at the front door and ending in the bath. for some reason this got a smile out of me.

I compare it to my parents’ wedding picture
that’s hanging next to the dining room door;
they had a bigger cake, more friends and relations,
dressed black and white, a formal occasion;
contemplative, no eye for the camera.
My mother’s fatter in the face than I remember,
and isn’t that an ashtray beside the cake? i like the feel to this stanza. the comparisons. i like the way the ashtray feels as though it has some meaning.

Blow these pictures up out of proportion
and maybe we’d spot the germ of a future:
leukaemia, cancer, emphysema,
buried deep within a Russian doll.
How happy we appear! My Mum said never
had I looked so handsome, like Richard Gere;
perhaps that’s the joke we’re laughing at.

Behind us I trace the faintest whisper
of the tower blocks blown in ’88. personal references unless popular leave the reader feeling cheated (well this read )
As we’re cutting the cake, your face
burns with embarrassment
or anticipation of the sauce to come.
I can feel the grip that you have on my arm,
as if I might be the first to depart.

When lights fade I think I can hear you breathing,
but it’s central heating or a noise in the loft.
I close the windows to keep your scent in,
I reach out to touch an amputation;
I said we shouldn’t buy a bed this wide.
You never see pictures taken at funerals
unless somebody important has died.

it feels like a death or a divorce, i like the use of amputation to show someone is missing. it has a touch of sadness but overall it has a feel of nostalgia, of looking back.

i think it's an impressive write that needs a small edit. it has a personal quality real or contrived i'm not sure tough it feels genuine. (which is what many of us aim for isn't it) i enjoyed it's originality and narration. you didn't overextend the narration. the lines ended where they should have. apart of a couple of suggestions the piece worked really well.
thanks for the read.

ps, i was only kidding about the lack of friends ...not the advertising us