Autumn

September 2020

The Cyclepath Test

A rust-bitten bike

Lay dying on the towpath edge

And spoke in riddles. 

I walked on, and felt
Handlebars tug my shoelace:
A vicious cycle.

 

 

*** 

 

October 2020

Masked Feelings

 

Can of knock-off Lilt

Sneaks a coy glimpse at a soiled

Surgical face mask.

They sit one metre

Apart on a wall; from here,

It looks like a date. 

I steal this moment

And send on to a good friend;

She thinks they should kiss. 

 

 

*** 

 

November 2020

(Tobacc)ophelia

 

A foxed baccy pouch
In my likeness floats beside
Me: waterlogged corpse. 

I’d never been great
At heeding warnings; this time,
I might quit the cigs.