Saturday, 16 March 2013

Stories from a train

Begin with context
(from an inner blank), all you’ve got
these last few days.

Open your mouth and start
to talk. Waggle your tongue and grate
a larynx, poke an index finger

away from the dyke and let out a flood;
a torrent of words that finally, finally,
finally, will have their say.

Winter: central heating;
Spring: try garden wall;
Summer: where you’ve been;
Autumn: snow and branches start to fall.

More fleeting than characters in any book,
twaddle-words fly fast and empty
up to a hole-in-the-sky without the need
for smoke and mirrors, or an aching heart.

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