The Tuesday Poem

Sin É

The Tuesday Poem

We steam on barstools

read between slogans on a plastered ceiling

tune to the cuts and grace notes in banter

binge on ambience, high on E minor.

Coburg Street, past midnight, soaks

in sodium light. Rain beats time

on bodhran umbrellas, my spine

a river of running quavers that stick

to the soles of my sensible shoes

so I high-step the home stretch.

Framed in doorways on Wellington Road

crinoline ghosts wear mirrored skirts

that flirt with moonlight.

Guest house stairs are in rising fifths

my top floor room, a tall ship, exploring

the lilt in the Lee’s liquid fingers.

* Jayne Stanton lives, writes and works in Leicestershire. This poem was highly commended in last year’s Gregory O’Donoghue Poetry Competition which is now again open for entries. for details.

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