Drawers


Once opened Reveal vellum scrolls Instruments of devotion


In a half-light Rococo style Burdened with loves’ architecture Ancient legs bow As they support the dust.


The timer Of woodworm Ticks through manuscripts Of her music.


The Georgian handles Buffed with care As if they were treasure, Two lion heads that guard the palace.


Regulars


There are some Who come here wearing dead men’s clothes


And faces that fill red label With forty-five percent black bush, Voices that open the brothel door of talk As the barman slides a sweat of beer.


Some will stand here forever The gravel getting caught in their words Tattoos fading to blue, nicotine eyes Staring anciently through smoke Leaving carbonised traces on trays.


25


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36