Another handful of small stones

I’ve been saving them up so I can fling them at your bedroom window like gravel from the hands of a lovesick fool…

20/01/14

Clear veins have crept through the gutters,

Hard frost has scrubbed at the brickwork,

At last we wake up to the gift of edges.

19/01/14

Rapidly snapping their wingtips back into place over their rumps

Like concert pianists flipping their tailcoats over the stool.

Herring gulls. Deadpan.

18/01/14

On the floor of the Battery museum –

A quiet cluster of spent shells,

Dinted and corroded, crude as coilpots.

And one white feather.

17/01/14

On the train I am persuaded to put down my pen

By the clouds, those tatters of pale, blinding radiance.

16/01/14

The galvanised watering can has rolled against the back fence, skittled by the night-long wind, but resting now. In the 7am gloom, it is the only gleam. A shoulder of silver light, pale and passive as a quarter moon.

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One thought on “Another handful of small stones

  1. Reblogged this on McKay Poetry News and commented:
    Longtime poet comrade Luckins K, demonstrating that there is satori to be found even on Teeside. Kirsten will be coming to London on April 6 with her brilliant THE MOON CANNOT BE STOLEN to take part in the UTTER! EDINBURGH MINIFEST. You should all come (elsewhere on this blog for details).

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