re POEM 1

Cloud 23

From lofty Hilton heights,

floor-to-ceiling windows

reveal urban lights

flash and fade,

resembling space-capsule

beams

circling feast of nightfall

razzmatazz,

mirrors the sparkle

of frothy Fosters

grasped by weary

fingers that betray fingernails

needing a trim -

Tomorrow, tomorrow,

perhaps I’ll get around

to doing the million and one

things scrawled on my ‘To do list’

now the length of a full month

of not dones:

... pay car insurance

... catch-up call with Elise

... make appointment with dentist

... visit mum at Hathersage

... cut finger and toe nails

Another sip

from near-empty pint,

as my companion

returns to his place

opposite

He smiles a smile

which seems to have been

stitched on from birth

I allow the corners of my mouth

to twitch upward, despite

the dull mechanical ache

hammering the seat

of my spine

“You look beautiful” he says

I turn away,

look out into the glittering

page beyond the muted black

and wonder how life

became so confused, complicated.

Catherine Mark