I seen it wink on the wet cold of the tracks
I seen it smiling in slices of wheel
I seen it hug with a hot breath of diesel
I seen it clatter in tippy tap heels
I seen it squeal in the railway man’s whistle
I seen it clutching up bunches of skirts
I seen it rumble along with the luggage
I seen hope so it no longer hurts
Some people need a catalyst
like the sun basking a meadow
like the slow, noble head of a cow
raising her eyes to the moon
beauty isn’t everywhere, but
it does creep, pry and sneak
under covers
my girl gets
as hot and soft as proved bread
a cream fall
a silk disaster of flesh
I throw the covers off myself
too hot
head to the window
crack it, the dream catcher begins
a jerky
night-long dance
Luke, she says
you’ve left the blind up
mnh
Luke I want a lie in tomorrow…
silence
Oh my god you’re a PRICK
Kneaded dough suffers upwards gripped by sleep
shuts the blind…
and I suppose I am, really
but in the still morning she apologised
Sometimes you need the sun
spring sun
to realise anything at all
Tired Blinds was published in issue #33 of Belleville Park Pages, which you can find here
Image by Hugo Jones
