Long Ago London...
The next day
I walked
Wrapped in fake fur
Boots to my knees
Hair bottle blonde and wild
Demoralised ...
No comfort now
No honey blanket
Covering my boney hips.
I walk the Hornsey slopes...
..both here and there...
Head to the blast of biting wintertide
Trees hangdog overhead
Walls snarly flint
Anoraks ...nearby trains
Church Bells beneath the lorry wheels
Cartage always on the move...
A heated mess of metal
noise and debit
Hard to behold.
The bends of Archway down the hill...below
Here now ..the thorn-ed verity
That had become
My life
A repetitious pattern
Resulting in a bloody mess..again again..
Life as an accident ...
Once more like broken columns at my feet.
I must step on..
I walk..I’m looking for a room
It might have been the moon...
A bed
Each house more gloom than next
Brass Knockers. . Door bells
Ding dong suburban chime
I have no will to enter in...the room is on the left
That smell of last night’s piss
Distorts my falling lake of tears
Great pools of heartache I must hide
Into my sneezing hankerchief.
A narrow bed against the wall..
The pattern of tobacco shades
A threadbare swirl across the floor
A beside table with a cheap pink lamp
The Cruddy window streak and grime
The crack a gaping wound of wind..
Which bolts around the room
Landlord and I..arrested by December’s frost
Stand in the prison cell that might become my home.
And I ...my Cretian cheeks turning to tar
Remembering last summer’s
Deck chair dress
And summer sandals
Scream a shrill internal scream
Run from the house..away away
Away into the Hornsey grim
A million people in my path
And you...? .
..with golden daisies in your hair
You’re dancing out of sight..
Already froglets in the wings....
With watery eyes for you.
Time marches on
A Goose Step to the wall.
Another home
Mercurial and gone
Forever looking for a home.
A tortoise
With a broken shell
I drag my shell along
Kristine Byrne 4th/5th september 2012