Thursday 26 June 2014

Three Spitfires


I
And it wasn’t the moving of curtains like breathing
or the clicking of buildings settling down for the night
but a distant loud roaring of engines and thunderbolts
and his name on the roll-call; insects and kites.
II
And it wasn’t the twitching of curtains like breathing
or the clicking of buildings in the night and the night
but the nearby quiet roaring of blood in the arteries
and the checklists and wheelchairs; halogen lights.
III
And it wasn’t the twitching of eyelids one evening
or throat-boxes sobbing defying the night
but the nearby quiet roaring of blood in the arteries
and inbreath – and outbreath; - emerald flight.