Shuffles
Past
alphabet windows where
Faces of
bone and alabaster
Stare on,
jubilant
Fingers
twirling invisible
Cutlery
The hidden
moon summons
The cats
Who wail at
skylarks and
Slink across
crooked windowsills
On which I
am sat after
Lunch
When I
found my influencer
Secreted
In a third
story nook
I pulled
out a knife
And stabbed
the empty page
With the
handle.
Fallen
plaques litter the
Curbs
Like
enlarged bottle tops
Which tinkle
when the
Breeze
blows eastward
And
scholars in crumpled dress
Ordain it
so
On
telephone wires are the
Bugs
That also
live on human
Eyelashes,
dancing to the
Sizzle of
electricity and basking
In brain
scanned contrast,
Distrusting
of one another
Below roads
where the
Dropped
Rain
accumulates, windows
Are sealed
to the point of
Combustion,
all gaps and pockets
gaffa-taped.
On blazing
hot terraces
No-one
Is solid,
all that perch
Drift in
mist and are
Subsumed by
mist
And will be
outlived by
Mist
Falling
imbalanced off of
Streetcorners
Are slices
of pure sunshine
Dressed in
darkest funeral
Gloom,
remaining invisible
To
supposedly tender hearted
Paper-bearers
The strike
of mid-afternoon
Bruises
Every part
of the city
And as I am
engulfed
By cloud and
trampled
By cat, I
stop to listen
And to
exclaim:
‘listen!’