Poem


Night journey

It must have been a relief
to reach the smooth skin
of Velux glass after a long
ascent up the rough terrain
of brick wall, over the peaks
of ridged tiles, a kind of
‘putting your feet up’
slug-style but disappointing,
nevertheless, to find it bare
of anything to eat but here’s
the map you made, to be
sure of that, before returning
to better pickings on the roof,
the gutter’s moist wells where
you fed, for once, under a sky
empty of fear. And we slept
our own fears and reliefs
chasing through our dreams.


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