Poem of the month

Mistress
by David Constantine

Women whose hands know the feel of a baby’s head
Push them confidently in among the melons
And their strong brown thumbs side by side,
Beautifully cuticled, feel for give on the crown.

That summer of the hot winds and the fires
The melons were sold split. He held me one
Before we had paid for it, before all the people,
To smell the inside of at its small
Opening fleur-de-lys and we went down
In a river of laughter between the banked stalls
Among all the people swinging our fruit in a net.

He made the cuts but I opened it
And for a moment my hands were a bowl of flames.
I served him cradles and the moons of nursery rhymes
And a family of rocking boats. We ate
And our mouths ran over with luscious smiles.

Then he closed my hands into a fist and held them shut.

David Constantine’s poetry often draws on memories vividly recalled. Here a woman remembers a simple incident that happened during a hot and possibly distant summer buying a water melon in the market. Telling details -’he held me one before we had paid for it, before all the people…he made the cuts but I opened it’ – and the symbolic gesture described in the final line, endow an otherwise trivial event with disturbing power. The poem is taken from one of Constantine’s earlier collections, ‘Madder’ (the colour, not the state of mind). It is also included in his (highly recommended) ‘Collected Poems’ published by Bloodaxe. His latest collection ‘Nine Fathoms Deep’ is also published by Bloodaxe.