Tuesday, 16 February 2016

A poem by Mark Russell

Coroner's Court

I was sent to cover the story
on a slow Wednesday afternoon
in erratic T-line and open-neck shirt:

A garden centre, less than busy.
Midweek, school holidays, warmed glass
drying the plants, heating and furniture.

The outdoor section has compost and topsoil,
sheds for tools, pottering, hiding,
ornamental ponds, a tempered aspect.

It is possible to spend more money
than you plan on days like this.
It is possible to learn a new Latin name

for a special rose, possible to drown
in less than a few inches of water,
especially if you are young, say three or four.

There are no small parts, it is said,
just small actors. No small stories, just 
some awful adventures.

Mark Russell has published two pamphlets, Saturday Morning Pictures (Red Ceilings),
and Pursued by Well-being (tall-lighthouse). His poetry has appeared recently in The
Rialto, The Interpreter’s House, and Bare Fiction. He leaves traces of himself at:

No comments:

Post a comment