Receding

This January, whilst trying to squeeze, squish and maim my round peg through London's various, interlocked and rapidly disintergrating square hoops, I wrote this. Promptly forgot all about it. But it's not rubbish, is it? xxx

Receding

Some trotters roughen
In delight, my mind
Coughs. Toughened toes’
Fair white hairs curling
In contented toil.
Chipped, chalky heels
Soldering sediment, stacking meals.

Amazed, by the parting ways
Of a horseshoe?
Slack shod concepts track
A jealous politics, a narrative
Of two looped misfunctions
And dispronounced frisson,
Running ten minutes late.

Nothing is typical in mirrors,
Votive facades, arrowed alcoves.
Five seconds silence
Rushes tough above,
Obscuring the passing
Fission of mutual accord,
Bloating those strong disappearing legs
With all you can’t take back.