Sunday 2 November 2008

A couple of short'uns written for Your Messages.



It takes us longer to die
down here, as others fizz
danger like shark teeth.
Long enough to see the shimmering beauty
of the sky through a surface of water.

-----

Train Station

They say the brakes weep here, but all I hear
is metal on metal and a precise lack
of haunting; then silence. How could this resemble
anyone's grief?

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