Mercury and Icarus
In my early teens
my next door neighbour
was conscripted
after he turned eighteen
he came back from Vietnam
with a hole in his leg above his knee
it had its uses
a pencil could be passed through it
or a safe view of the occasional eclipse
would be offered to the initiated
he deputised for his mother
delivering the mail on her PMG bike
following the milk and bread deliveries
we played in the same team
his nickname was ‘Fly’
there were soft Winter afternoons
when warm light off the windscreens
crossed the boundary lines
refracting to appear as dance
when he ran towards goal
his boots ascending as he kicked
the backline distracted in a shedding aurora
of a lens in soft muscle
on a Saturday when it still rained
he suddenly pushed an umpire to the ground
threw the ball into the standing watchers
walked away with his studs flinging mud
out of earth cold as old wax
he sent a postcard from Crete
BIO
James Walton was a librarian, a farm labourer, and mostly a public sector union official. He is published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. His poetry collections include ‘The Leviathan’s Apprentice’ 2015 Publish and Print U.K., ‘Walking Through Fences’ 2018 ASM & Cerberus Press, ‘Unstill Mosaics’ Busybird 2019, and ‘Abandoned Soliloquies’ Uncollected Press 2019.