Friday, 12 April 2013

'Hit back': a sonnet for Andreas

A pink conflicted skin of storm,
Gentle, pent thick, with melting dyes;
Refracting daylight's soft fragmenting warmth,
Breaks up night's blooming, petalled, half-disguise.
London. The dizzy, drizzled Soho lights,
Spread wet, chaotic child-like over streets
Vinigared black. The city's pressure bites
You - pincered by the flash and shrieks.
Your battle plan begins from where you stand.
Bare-fisted, young, transfixed by midnight sun.
Appraised of facts, like sand between your hands.
Apologies get banished on the run.
The city's polystyrene tongue attacks.
With language made to scar and crack. Hit back.

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