I can’t be off the map; the same sights appear -
Sirens of stone - until I plant my feet
To look; a miraculous, walked-past sight
Waits patient. There are no bearings to get,
No sight in the sky telling West from East
No sense to be found in these pinstriped streets.
Cold hands and a hot head; let the ground take
The weight, lean into the afternoon. Rest.
The last trace of sunshine drops like sugar
In a steaming paper cup - a beacon
Which slips behind missed monuments, winking.
Hi Zoe! This is a good first draft, comments are:
ReplyDeleteiS there a better word to use than re-using sight?
I love the line about pin-striped streets - it makes me feel as if some tiresome bureaucrat is getting in the way of you making sense of your surroundings!
The image in the last few lines about the sub is very powerful, can this be brought out more firmly?
The line about sights in the sky - it's as if daylight is your enemy, stoping you from starlight navigation. If this is the intent, maybe there is more you can do with this line?
Hope this helps! You really have captured the experience of feeling lost, but maybe not the frustration if can bring?love kxxx
Also, I love the line:
ReplyDelete'a miraculous, walked-past sight
Waits patient.'
Lovely! x
So descriptive, you've painted out so many sights of Glasgow for me here...
ReplyDelete