Ian Seed - Three Prose Poems



Ian Seed


Inheritance

A professional woman lived in the flat above mine. I was on my own, out of work, and often behind with the rent. She kept her distance. A small plant someone had given me for Christmas kept me company.

One day I came into some money and was able to buy the flat. Meanwhile, the small plant had grown into a tree whose branches were pushing against the ceiling, threatening to break through into the flat of the woman, who still kept her distance.



Lesson

Up in the mountains, seeking the truth about some incident that had taken place there many years before, I found myself wrestling with a fifteen-year-old shepherd boy. He was getting the better of me.

‘Just think,’ I cried, ‘a fifteen-year old boy wrestling with a fifty-year old man!’ At that he relented, not having realised how old I was.

It was then that I saw his mother. We hadn’t made love in ages. We would have to get to know each other all over again.

I was prepared to take the initiative, but now the boy’s father was approaching – perhaps to tell me, I thought, that I was going about the whole thing in the wrong way.



New Friend

I decided to take her to the house where I’d been renting a room for ages, though I’d never actually stayed there. It was so long since I’d been back that I felt obliged to ring the doorbell instead of using my key. The landlady took her time coming to the door, and greeted me with a brittle smile. I found my room unlocked, but there was nothing to steal anyway, apart from an ancient TV coated in dust. I was surprised, however, to find that in the tiny en-suite bathroom, the shower curtain was wet and there were pubic hairs on the toilet. But I couldn’t say anything, not with my new friend here. She was the kind of person who’d want to see the sort of life I led, and she had no idea I wasn’t really living there at all.




copyright © Ian Seed, 2019