The following poem is a villanelle written for inclusion in The Tesserae, the long poem I wrote in 2020 during the UK lockdowns and the Covid-19 pandemic. It originally appeared at the beginning of ‘Meditations of the Sphinx’, the third part of the poem.

You walk the line, I work the art.
All day the heat is effortless.
The language sits us far apart.

No tenderer hand could tend your part
but death possesses only force.
The line you walk. You work the art.

To last this breath not breathe one’s last
this thing must run its course of course: Continue reading →

Night Shift

What light there is can barely hold for some.
You see there is some small emergency.
But what will you decide when night has come?

A torch to light the way till days succumb
to all the dark that waits for you and me?
What light there is can barely hold, for some Continue reading →