sparrow’s lot

There’s something in the searching of
if an up rises, if an off is off
or down
your face twitches at the thought

I was here in past perfects: I had been
also
I’d watched you anyway from this gap;
spreading, reconstitutor, lost
a schoolgirl fantasy arrested at the gates

wearing worry with pride, a message
flashes itself on my lens.
You pace, your crowd cheers
the same as they’d have done for anyone.

your words are poor, but betray your past
a poet now? equality?

let us believe that time is passing
and not just limbs flinching as
years hit walls – part of me still pities.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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