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Puppet master flicks his fingers
to make the notes all fizz and glide
controlled by lines of aching staves
all polished new they swing and slide.
Chromatically the music sits
then slithers in a husky growl
and thunder is diminished in it
and clouds converge so thickly now.
The weather caught by jazz in syncopation
dances chachacha and rumba slow
hats tilted on the pavement walk with lilting
feet caught in the spotlight nightly glow.
Wine in glasses left to stand like soldiers
while sparkling ladies dance and blurring twirl,
stop to listen when the trumpeter arises
and hear the notes, like coils, uncurl.


Vicki Northern is more commonly known as Ermintrude or Paradox, due to a daisy chewing habit and having odd friends. Her favourite things include watermelon pip spitting contests, quoting The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and playing unaccompanied Bach. She doesn’t like riding rickshaws down the wrong side of a dual carriageway, aeroplane curries, or the beeping sound microwaves make when they have finished cooking. She spent her childhood in East Africa learning to avoid rabid dogs, cycling through national game parks and wearing flip-flops. She reads anything she can get her hands on, mostly due to the fact that she has never had a television. She writes poetry and fiction. Now she lives in Guernsey and wants to be Postman Pat when she grows up.

© 2007, Vicki Northern

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