On this street the music pours out
of attic windows, muffled and struggling
to achieve annoyance. The shop doors
remain open, tempting fate. The street lights
damp and broken, their roots unstable
in the grass verges that lay dry like snake less
desserts.
The breeze passes heavy, carrying
the guttural voices of the daily dwellers.
Their ingrained presence never redeemable,
fossilised within the billboards and bus stops,
which cradle them each evening. They never
seem lost as long as they remain within these
stretched parameters.
Towards the streets end that gently scrapes
the untouchable horizon; the sludge covered
hill punctuated with buckled pylons remains
unattainable at this comfortable distance.
We embrace this inevitable unbreakable cycle;
another reminder that this back drop never
changes.
Jonathan Butcher is a poet based in Sheffield, England. He has had work appear in various print and online publications, most recently at: Popshot, In Between Hangovers, The Morning Star, Mad Swirl, Picaroon Poetry, Amaryllis and others. His second chapbook 'Broken Slates', was published by Flutter Press.