Intersection
written by: Gavin Haycock
@poetry_pieces
held at lights
while nearby, on another plane, another lane
one running through narrow arches
two bodies, blankets laid over
four feet, paired with different coloured socks
leg moves, slow roll through dawn
seeking an inch more comfort
just them, under concrete colonnade thighs
guarding St Mary’s, Our Lady of the Snows
just them, down after another round of wine-dark midnights
misfit lovers, branches reaching into their dreams
l’artisans passage d’enfer
bark-ribbed body of wiry green veins
black poplar, honey locust and Judas trees
their leaves, finding it now difficult to aspire
flesh almost, warm to touch
a summer spent, seeping through it all
ready for the fall
orange-blood crunch
burnt remains of a season passed
as autumn awakes and a sun slowly arises
now here, among us
in the smoky trail
of sticky coffee houses, run-down newsagents, locked resident gardens
lights change, they sleep on
while jet tailfins silently carve their way to earth on red-eye runs
descending through vapour-blue skies
casting shadows across us
fragile links barely bridging above and below
as we wait in pools of amber
then, momentarily are lit green
by a barely visible beacon at the intersection
- Distance - January 21, 2022
- Afloat - August 1, 2020
- Comfort Of Strangers - January 30, 2019
