Barging through the dawn chorus
you shuffled in –
Left no footprints
but pinned your hate
to the gatepost
near the shed with no door.
Bits of you fell off along the gravel path
as your head spun on your shoulders,
but the house had heard you coming
and locked the front door.
Words still got in though,
and it was as if a new language
had just germinated in your throat
watered by yesterday’s scorn.
And you’d slept in the shadows
of the old goods yard
between the rails,
amongst dead fireworks.
Black rockets from the school
hitting your body still smoking.
Winston Plowes shares his floating home in Calderdale UK with his 18-year-old cat, Sausage. He teaches creative writing in schools and to local groups while she dreams of Mouseland. His latest collection Tales from the Tachograph was published jointly with Gaia Holmes in 2018 by Calder Valley Poetry. www.winstonplowes.co.uk
