As the years drain away from all of us, poems too pass into the past. Sometimes you just have to grab them by the scruff of the neck and drag them back into the limelight. Welcome to my weekly bit, ‘Old Poems Die Hard’ – reblogging a forgotten poem. ‘Dancefloor Justin’ was originally published 29/08/2014.


Dancefloor Justin

Dancefloor Justin learned to dance down a narrow ally,
he took professional dancing lessons by oil lamp
in a place where bins overflow and bastard cats wail.

I eyed up his moves with a Ceaser’s thumb
against the bar feeling wild
and high enough – tomato juice warm against the straw,
bruised purple in the bar’s mirror. O

Dancefloor Justin who was evicted by his black mistress,
Dancefloor Justin who was concerned with his eye wrinkles,
Dancefloor Justin who fell on deaf ears
and later,
the floor.