On Comedown Hill
over a London that
comes into eye
like a quivering polaroid
in a brittle breeze
as the bubble we've been nursing
wastes away down to the
finest wispy threads
at least we have each other
Last night's basses
still pulse through
my cramping jaw
and as the first sun's ray
draws sweat from cadaver skin
no one says a word
I look to profiles for a friend
I fish for the faintest of nods
but realise I'm with strangers
No comments:
Post a Comment