FRUITY CHEW
the soft toys were devouring
books on science fiction
and on fantasy
poring over those 50’s
covers oozing
Oedipal fantasy
I got a bit worried
about the words inside though
for, to the best of my knowledge,
utopia, dystopia, conceptual breakthrough:
these genre places in the zone
(and orbit) of dangerous ideas
then rhubarb-coloured one, prone
to gainsay everything, began
to agitate his comrades, educating them
how in worlds of conjecture
old hierarchies get — must get —
deconstructed, disestablished
and so
like all good god-authors do
I listened
with obviously less
than sympathetic ear
though putting temporary hold
on possible reprisals
for which absence of sympathy, solidarity,
I was starkly, harshly, openly called out
and ideologically corrected
and so
we had it out
and so
we negotiated
terms
of co-existence
new role for me
and roles for them
and house must
basecamp become for
varied and shared adventures
environment conducive to
the realization
of fantasies
no author character
distinction clear
must make some time
just to be a character
subject to whim and wile of literary fate
governed by genre
trapped
by trope
defined by
archetype
left
with
no arc, resolution
incomplete
the fate of
the badly written, subject
to cliche, blockage,
obvious choices
having to
be edited and revised
perhaps
without end
or blurred of identity, of
apiece with all others
(at least
my little soft toy creations
in their rainbow of pastels
every shade the distinct match
of flavour of fruity chew).