at exactly 9pm

By | 1 October 2010

do all corner shops have to die
with peeling skin and
rusted chairs, shadows
where Christmas lights
once
rested
and spread magic
for ice-cream, car-ride-kids?

I am convinced the new moon
was shot there
like a bullet
streaking through clouds
and it’s now
about to break up
into ash

a solemn line of grandfatherly canons
fill a deserted beach
and when you pass them
traces of coals
blink from the sand

if you see a light in my office
at exactly 9 pm – come up
you’ll want to toast this
moment
watch me do this
empty my egg baskets
listen to me telling you

this is how you jettison a load
slowly
but with forgiveness too

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