An Old Soak

An Old Soak

His criss-cut frown
an ink seagull
v-ing through those
four feet between us.
Flat faced
with a square jaw,
he stared.
I stared.
No chickening
no shaping
eye to eye solidity.
Black blink-less irises filled
each sharp angle crevice,
persistent, throbbing.
Awaiting a back down
the water cooled.
His bulbous nose
static through steam.
A motionless
charade of glaze
on that fractured
bath tile of a face.

Jerry Pike

Reconciliation Statue, Coventry Cathedral

Reconciliation Statue, Coventry Cathedral

1 don't remember when 1 noticed it first,
acceptance, creeping up like Mr Wolf.
1 had thought my senses 'frozen by the past.

Indeed, before 1 was caught by its stealth
I'd sworn to never fall for its sly charm
preferring anger to assert the self,

for how could we forget the storm
of bombers in the skies of Coventry,
the startling deaths and alarm; the fear

they'd build their sign here, in this city,
for victims to read, entering their charnel house
with the terrible lie, Work sets you free?

But it seems those who thought everything lost
can now face each other without despair,
consoled although their hearts have long since burst.

Look at these figures with a blank stare
to see a melting of the inner frost
and come to know the hatred they have nursed
has gone, and they are now no longer cursed.

Peter Keeble