Published in the ‘Magma’ ‘Film’ edition, July 2018


Your dad once played a pair of legs,
mum said, in a film
before you were born.

I saw a pair of massive legs
clearing skyscrapers with a single stride,
crushing cottages underfoot,

or perhaps my dad’s hands
rapping an intricate beat
with a couple of thigh bones.

Later I’d watch the legs cross
the corner of the screen
outside Dirk Bogarde’s window,

rewind, walk him backwards,
pause, let him go again
striding off the edge of the TV

away from Dirk and the other guy
to find me.