Using

20/12: that’s when i started
using again

a diary, that is,
custom-made, as fortune dictates

black biro and, then, blue

that’s how i write the days of my weeks,
because i never seem to keep hold

not for too long; anyway -
but that’s only cos i’m wired wrong
copper ends meet non-opposite poles

at least
the pages are filled with something, at least

ink starts to freeze and i can see
my own breath, before my face

each time marks new, a different colour;
strokes and bowls never hold the same rain

(but there’s something)
(something in the pages)

(hiding)
(recycled)
waiting to be known, itching, striking face

so i’ll put my blue biro
down

& brave the frost;
hands wrapped up, polycotton

though it’s cold in cobbled avenues,
i’ll keep moving, perhaps

i might across a page
in the heat

this time clinging, turning

< Back >