Author Archives: colinhopkirk

Softest leather, the colour of horse chestnuts brass studs at the wrists, almost invisible stitching lined with fine wool. I remembered the smell – leather, of course, and tobacco, and Old Spice. And how I took them once, and never asked and lost them somewhere. I was careless  in the way some young men are.Continue reading “Today, my father’s gloves appeared”

The screws were kept in a rectangular tin green and gold, with the word ‘screws’ scratched into the lid, with a screw. They had their own smell – iron and steel, a smattering of rust and old Gold Flake tobacco. …………….. Cars, when they went wrong were always ‘bastards’. Nuts, that wouldn’t free from boltsContinue reading “1970, or thereabouts”

Something’s not happening. There should be mayhem  an explosion of feathers blood everywhere. There should be ninja aeronautics and flying daggers. He should already be gone.

You may feel giddy, but will probably  have been drinking. There may be moments when you think you’re right-back-there.  They won’t last. You will soon find yourself feeling either too old r too young. And there will be too much laughter.  At some point you will realise it’s fake. Then you will want to leave. Continue reading “Reunions”

It is a warm nightmy daughter sleeps above her coversone arm extended, forefinger raisedshe looks like she is flyingor pointing at something far awaythat only she can see

Wooden clogs do not fly gracefully: there’s too much drag, which means they  tumble through the air, losing speed exponentially to clatter the backs  of closing doors if you time  it right. Wet dishcloths, on the other hand can take you by surprise.  

Today we left the path away from numbered signs telling us the facts about flora and fauna followed a narrow track that narrowed further then disappeared stumbled, through  birch and alder, caught on briar and dog rose twisting free, like children  not quite lost, laughing pushing through to sunlight breathing differently.

On days when he is stronger, we conjure spirits  taking our time, finding the right words. Antelope shimmer through haze. He tries to name them but his eyes are not good and they are too far away. There is a house with deep verandahs, a tired garden,  and a tin roof that sings in theContinue reading “Sunbirds”

The splash of outdoor swimmersa steady murmur rising and fallingand laughter and sunburned children shrieking.a warm breeze carries scents ofcut grass and cigarettesSummer music ghoststhrough cheap transistor radiosand somewhere close, springboards thwack and shudderat the Deep Endwhere fathers push their sons 

In ghost ponds in sediments and silts galaxies of daphnia centuries of seeds dream of light playing through water a little warmth  some good air anything but this.