Traces Left Behind

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Jimmy O'Connell
Posts: 855
Joined: Thu Aug 17, 2006 10:14 pm
Location: Ireland

Traces Left Behind

Postby Jimmy O'Connell » Sat Nov 18, 2017 2:55 am

Traces Left Behind

Crossing at the traffic lights in Parliament Street,
and making his way over Capel Street bridge
he processed in priest-like dignity bearing,
in one hand, a just-opened tin of John West
sardines, and in the other, a white plastic fork.

He vestured a power-blue business suit-jacket,
a faded open-necked white buttoned-down shirt,
and trousers paper stiff with grime; he had the gaunt
middle-aged face and demeanour of a solicitor.

No one took heed of him, no one smiled, ribbed,
or turned to snigger at his sockless feet as he padded
the asphalt, the rubber soles of his Adidas runners
dragging like perverse flippers behind him.
Oh bless the continuous stutter
of the word being made into flesh
-The Window-

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