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
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.

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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