Crikey

Cilla McQueen, (no relation), has been made our poet laureate for the next two years. Well-deserved. Her Crickey is one of our loveliest love poems.

CRIKEY

I can’t think straight
my words spin off
in sugar and spice
god you’re nice
I’ve got a running filmstrip in my head of you
every time I close my eyes
I close my eyes quite often
I feel so good
I feel like morning
a kiss on a ferris wheel
in a tunnel of love
I’m not quite sure what is happening
but your image is in me like a scent
all the roses in the garden are opening up at once
it’s raining big round drops
of extraordinary sweetness
let me be serious
I’m in love with you
I think of you
at every
turn move
my hand
your eyes your hand
(crikey)
do the washing
dream on the doorstep
clean all the windows at high speed
get lost
stare into space
watch a
green caterpillar
spinning enough
amazingly fine silk
to let himself down smoothly
from the very top
leaf
of the tree

The poem magnificently explores (one can never capture) that bounce of being in love, every cell in the body vibrant with elation and anticipation, swept along by that irrepressible confidence. Every waking moment is filled with the incandescent awareness of the other person’s existence. Particular events, like a caterpillar descending on its thread, take on a celebratory significance.