Willesden Nocturne for a Retired Nurse

1 February 2018

When you open your midnight door

fishing for sound you hear

the scrape of a snail

the frame fills with the head of a fox

your eyes meet

Do you then plant a stethoscope

on the throat

 of a wren

feel for the pulse of the glacier

 grinding its way to the future

 or track the thrum
of a lone motorbike rider under colliding stars

scanning lit streets

 in the hope of sighting injured mammals
deep in open-cut screens drowning in tea

blinded by the glare

of the jewellery channel?

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