three poems
Underneath the Terror lies Melody
Such a sound guttural yet becalming
emerges from a torrent etched
into memory like a banshee
Drift along like a California
snow storm
through streets of a second city
past the deserted International
Railway Terminus
Unafraid to go home wherever that
may be night by night is the option
There’re some nice parts of London
you can see them from here
like the platforms at King’s Cross
that will lead to a beauty that lays
quietly waiting in a commuter town
the third button down is stitched with red thread
It is the finest of details
the kind that emerge after
careful consideration
open the brown paper parcel
follow the arc of the rose
as it heads towards the snow
making an angel of its own
a rocking chair comes to rest
out the window the shimmer of air
as darkness falls defusing light
from across the valley
Close up the House
Close up the house for three weeks
go to the States
come back to a cheaper electricity bill
and a clearer head
Gather materials enough
for survival enough for poetry
take a book-bag take a bottle
of water
a breath to locate oneself
listen to King’s Cross by Pet Shop Boys
and dream of cold Corona
on a beach with the tide
lapping at our ever-so white feet
Travel is dangerous
a semi-state to re-locate
and to realise the enormity of the everyday
