Hi Arthur,
I used to live somewhere like this. The last two lines are particularly
evocative. Memories of wandering home on foot at 3am... long gone. You have
developed wonderfully as a poet and I found this a most enjoyable read.
bw
James
>From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: The Flats
>Date: Sun, 16 Jun 2002 17:27:28 +0100
>
> The Flats
>
>Above ringing passages
>wind mutters and whimpers
>up flights of stairs, pitched in gloom,
>wedged with shadows,
>where dust descends
>a scutter of papers mouse,
>muddy feathers rot,
>and the purpled lump of a decaying squab,
>beak still gawped,
>serves pulsing gentles that unravel
>its brief web of life.
>
>Seams of night smeared
>by the pallor of stars.
>Shapes in the car park merge,
>coagulate to thicker dark,
>tear comfort from each other’s arms,
>more tangled than forget,
>as a night bird sings
>to their flutes of subdued laughter
>and the snorts of lust
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