Sunday, 24 January 2010

re POEM 1

Cloud 23

From lofty Hilton heights,
floor-to-ceiling windows
reveal urban lights
flash and fade,
resembling space-capsule

circling feast of nightfall

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

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


lissa said...

I like the descending of thoughts and the slight brush of reality slowly settling in

CathM said...

Thank you, Lissa. I really appreciate your thoughtful comments.