MacSweeney and the Mandrill – 1

Inspired by T.S. Eliot's Sweeney among the Nightingales

Brackish wind-borne drops of rain

Arrive on the Summer breeze,

Landing on hairy simian arms

MacSweeney backs against the trees

Frying onions from within the room

Where drinkers murmur in their cups

MacSweeney plants a foot against the earth

Braces against the coming squall, which soon erupts

A Mandrill, all red and blue,

Comes out to get some air and space

She looks upwards to the sky

Light raindrops hit her neck and face

The cigarette she claws to her red lips

Seems to make her body arch as she inhales

Light raindrops splash her pale skin

Light winds fill her sails

MacSweeney watches as

A smoke cloud billows from her parted lips

His searching eyes take in

her yearning well-proportioned hips.

The drifting smell of perfume

Disturbs his stubborn pose

A memory of childhood

Cedarwood, marmalade and rose.

He holds a cleft of bark

Behind his back feeling its rude

Roughness act as spine

Dispels the sentimental mood

He avoids attention to her eyes.

Ignores a smile of welcome on her face

The Mandrill red and blue

Turns away, adopts another pace.

She moves inside, returning to the throng,

Her animated face now wet with rain

Yawns and adjusts a loosened strap

To echo his distain.

MacSweeney advances to the door

Sees the Mandrill meet his eye

Plants his hands on either jamb

Silhouette against the sky

Boughs of blue wisteria

Twist to form the doorway’s frame

MacSweeney pauses for a thought

Then laughs and leaves it all the same.