What are the determining factors
of a contemporary discomfort?
Industrial noise, dust, house mites or horse pollen?
An occasional lapse
transparent as knocking on a door.
Treat him to colourings
To colonial wedges of ice cream
A few fresh flowers at the window
Peep in at the wallpaper snake
coiled as a husk
as to what’s next gone.
It’s all darkness
the future the abeyant gift
The way the light catches it
All at sea
In the clammy air
Thick motes like fallen chalk dust
Tossing and calling from our temperature.
© Ralph Hawkins 1995