Monday, 10 October 2011

The Fall

Finally, the rain stopped
and I made my way down Prior's Walk;
paths too bare, trees too green,
had nature forgotten the season had changed,
I wondered,
like kids in the park, had they been there,
had forgotten how to play.

Jumping through puddles no more,
they dragged their feet
scattering fractured light from worn out soles

as teens around the Abbey grounds
whose hearts were buried there
called out their See you next Tuesday's,
casually, habitually,
scraping the dirt from theirs
in doorways hung
with helter skelter plants.

Who cared how many midnight trysts?
How many mouths they kissed?
Swung branches rarely left a mark, they thought
as another couple passed them by,
grey haired, in leather and jeans,
heading towards the park, hand in hand.

Monday, 3 October 2011


It looked like a coop, up there on the roof
where battery hens might have laid their eggs
then torn through the mesh, distressed
contemplating freedom

 - just a couple of slates to escape -

if only they could scratch their way
up towards the sky

or down

to the courtyard they swooped,
to Cafe Familiar's gathering groups
all clucking and flapping and pecking away,
all sticking out their necks
so far as to fit in.

Alright Hen?
How's it going?
What are your plans for today?
They'd test each other's wings against their own

These dull, brown feathered birds
too alike to be anything but,
too weak to fly anywhere else but home.