Short Film

A running tap in a cluttered room,

the water through dust-light.

Someone stares from a close distance,

unmoving. The sound fills the space.


A body lies outside, on the paving,

curled sideways, fully clothed.

One fist open, the other

hidden. Dawn breaks slow above.


Two bright young things, in hats,

scarves and gloves, rush breathless

to the window of a jeweller's,

gazing at a pair of ruby earrings;

the glass mists.


A huddled figure staggers down

a muddy road, a flock of sheep,

already disparate, edge cautiously back

at its passing; beyond, jut cliffs

and the pale milk of sea.


A car passes, loud pop music booms

for an instant; dusk razes

through a suburban grove,

dapples through leaves with sodium fizz.

'Redevelopment' is in the air.


Rain pelts down on cracked patio,

the body floats, sodden ballast,

poorly laid gaps filling

with terracotta red,

a fence in view, a chipped green.


◄ The Way The Wind Is Blowing

Ebbing ►


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