For Antoinette

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On a wet afternoon in Wetherspoon’s

I came across her: gazing intently,

like a survivor from some belle époque

into the mirror of her make-up box;

and making herself presentable

for a night out and its chances,

she applied eye shadow and liner

with a practised hand, then blended

a blusher to the natural tint of her skin.

From time to time she paused,

deflating the banter, risqué and obvious,

of daytime regulars in a drawl

as rich as poured molasses.

She said her name was Antoinette –

mixed race, Belizean, and proud

of genes that shaped her cheek bones,

her hair as sleek as Jeanne Duval’s

and which she brushed and brushed,

her rhythm slow, insistent.




◄ Mill Girl

Casa Batlló ►


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Fri 11th Aug 2017 17:17

Masterly and sensuous David. The usual magic - and so well defined you can almost spoon it up and into the mouth ears and eyes.

Even to get her name seems like a lliason dangereuse.


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Tom Doolan

Thu 10th Aug 2017 15:06

Hi David - An enchanting and beguiling piece. Wetherspoon's here I come. T :)

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David Taylor-Jones

Thu 10th Aug 2017 11:12

Lovely rhythm and very evocative - almost makes me want to go to a Wetherspoon's!

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keith jeffries

Thu 10th Aug 2017 11:01

A beautiful rhythm and highly descriptive. Thank you. Keith

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 10th Aug 2017 09:41

ooooohhh!! keep going keep going! We need to know more!

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