Monday, 18 January 2010

Present Only

You said -
Jonesy this, and Jonesy that,
As if an identity could be warm and real.
The expectation fell over me,
A precipitation of bricks and soil.

Shadows, they looked like shadows of bats
Against the blind, afternoon pavement.

When I awoke and realised I was still alive,
A trillion beings respired,
And my respite was wired in.
I cut my pale limbs climbing over,
And when I reached sleep,
I found no lamb, no lion, not even water.

What I remember is a stubborn clock,
Foxes starving,
A past without oxygen or muscle.

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