This is a plain text version of David Kinloch's work, with some formatting changed to make the text as widely accessible as possible. Visit the David Kinloch page for a PDF version of the artist's original work.
Wheel Binding with Secondary Herringbone, 1752
'I cannot see any difference between a poem and a handshake.' Paul Celan
'Turn, and give the man a sign of peace now.
You’re old enough', she mouths.
I flap in the belly of his hand,
retrieve my fingers and drive my dinkie
car along those grooves of gold.
She slaps my wrist off
the Good Book’s racetrack.
‘Wheesht!’ Now, much later,
here is the librarian
proferring —like a fastidious sommelier—
a vintage Bible
running on a well-tooled binding
of scallopped wheels that turn
in light. It pours like herring
on the jetties.
There is
the smoke of luggers, drifters,
the oaths of Dutchmen
through the east coast haar.
My fingers trace the white pitstops
of the herringbones;
the refrain of spokes
which cross like fingers
to fillet daylight. Open
the handshake:
do this in memory
of the touch
of skin on skin
the wrist angled
do you remember?
towards you
the white bone
the funny bone
the wish bone
turning towards you
like a promise?