Two Poems by Ramona Herdman

The centre of the fucking universe

I wonder what happened to Martin?
When we were young he gave me
a sea-smoothed stone, as if I loved him,
as if I’d treasure it in my palm.
He was only my friend’s fiancé.
Long gone, long gone, back to New Zealand.
The dark, the other side of the world.

He could even be dead now. I wonder
how many acquaintances he gave
such presumptuous gifts to?
Is there a beach-trail of stones
across the world on the desks
of women who half-remember
his conversation of pronouncements?

The stone rests on my papers –
little igneous owl-pellet,
blip from the world’s core.
All this barely a blink in its lifetime
of never loving anyone.
Of course, you know don’t you
this is all about me, like everything? 

Congratulations

Ah. My friend, after not drinking
for four weeks, is now resolved
to not drink for a further six,
till his birthday. How adult.
A very adult and wise and
commendable thing to do.

A thing that possibly hints at
a bad thing there before
that I hadn’t noticed under
the laughter, the raillery,
the storming good times.
We all acclaim his decision.

I feel like a small person
on an ice floe,
with my dear friend
setting off very well-equipped
on a voyage, pulling away,
waving fondly from the stern
of his sturdy ship
and me

getting smaller and smaller
with the perspective,
left behind on the berg
with my warming little glass.
Smiling. Thinking to myself
‘At least I’ll never run out of ice.’

Ramona Herdman’s latest pamphlet, A warm and snouting thing, focusing on love, lust, flirtation and sexual politics, is published by The Emma Press. Her previous pamphlet, Bottle (HappenStance Press), was a PBS Pamphlet Choice. Ramona lives in Norwich and is a committee member for Café Writers. She tweets occasionally @ramonaherdman