Thursday, 17 May 2018

A poem by Jean Taylor


The edge of the high street
after dark

orange shadows
stretch over concrete

the stink of beer-breath hangs
in the air          you are touched

by the otherness of strangers
the thin crush of their  bodies.

Hold your head gentle
simulate indifference.

Fuck fuck knuckles bark
against bus shelter

two drunk men now
trainers jeans hooded jackets

a drunk girl aggravating,
scraping at the edge of anger.

They grapple on the pavement
topple over the kerb, flailing

onto the edge of the high street
after dark.

Jean Taylor belongs to Words on Canvas – a group of writers who work in collaboration with the National Galleries of Scotland. Her poetry has been published in a range of publications including Orbis, Northwords Now, Freak Circus and Poetry Scotland. She writes poems to explore what she is thinking or feeling, to express outrage or sorrow, or just for the pleasure of playing with words.

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