Carving
wing spread
Shadows
onto a
Wallpaper
of orange
We approach
but the
Gate shuts
with a rapturous clang
Faces at
the window offering
Hot anxiety
The perch
is damp
Wet with
accumulated
Visitation
Paper fires
in London
Brighton
Or veiled
English villages
An intruder
enters, carefully.
The Mayor,
fresh from
Leisure
Eclipse the
bottle of
‘rouge’ in
the nook
Behind the
wall
Under
streetlight
Of muted
admiration
Not yet
dark, remaining
Light compressed
under
The guilty
weight of
Smog
Curtains
pulled fractionally
With peep
holed filled by
Left-wing-left-eyes
Islington
twitchers, outside
For limp
cigarette
Wary of
front lawn
Invasion
Rifle
through the bag
Into a
queue of isolation
Singled out
like a
Favourite
coin
Nervous
plosives as
The rates
are reduced for
Me, out of
pity
Shuffling
through an
Enthusiastic
chessboard
To the
undesignated front
Bones
malleable, carrying
Effervescent
speech
A deep set
thumbs up
To a minute
point, above
Our heads
Time in
sizeable
Chunks is
occupied until
It starts.