Wednesday, 13 May 2015

1 New Poem

To Read in Five Years' Time

You live on flashed lights,
distance speculation, temporary
markings in the tribal sets of
our age; kind of dapper swirl
that stuns in midnight hours at
twenty-five but sour-stales by
thirty with the same clammy-headed
pill bottle pound awake-arise rhythm
of slanted beam ceiling, cracked lead
paint and charming irregular door frames.

Those same still-planted detachments,
coldness as some straining affect,
calm passing in raging tumult you never
faced in head charge, sheltered by
sunglass ironies, imagined wit;
how grand to keep believing

some heart beat in same teenage
time, the questions posed by one-off
mid-90s alt-group, pitter-patter
of scraped guitar chords you
could have worn as a halo,
worn as a cloudy cloth,
trail, rag-and-bone parade,

since you cracked the first
meaning of words in chapbooks.

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