Mayfair

I curve against the high wall
like a bracket,
pulling a long white tooth

with freckled root
from the cardboard robot's
square jaws.

Each second
becomes a pixel,
tree's constellation clouded.

Teatime is punctuated.

Black ash bleeds
into blank sky
and falls onto fresh

snow. I stub it out,
old pleasures staining
new life.



No, I haven't been smoking - just dreaming about it! I hope everyone is well. I'm so sorry for not commenting on journals. I have started work again this week - 2.5 days this week ,as part of a phased return. To be honest, it's rather overwhelming. Yesterday I felt as if I was watching myself teaching - almost watching my old self, or watching my new self pretend to be my old self. I feel very different inside. As if I have acquired a huge depth of love, fear and sensitivity.
Tomorrow night I am starting a poetry course in Newcastle, at the main library.