Thursday, June 07, 2007

Two poems by April May March

La Gazza Ladra

The city expects me to drop some change

onto the floor amongst the clowns, cobbles and malnourished pigeons

who peck out the eyes of faces covered by tatty sleeping bags and the news

well, its never good unless you are rich

what that means

matters little.

A few daffodils pinned to cardigans or grey suits

which can be found in charity shops

with many browsing noses

nosy nobodies flicking

through Kafka and other assoted bric a brac

Psalm 23

They took me to the old theatre just off Waldour Street

in order to experience

a vision of hell.

We got drunk beforehand in order to

unsettle out strong stomachs.

We entered the empty hall

cherishing the silence before the show,

sat down on velvet seats

consuming salty snacks.

I was willing to place a bet with my two companions

that nothing would happen.

Relax, they told me

take two of these

and wait

April May March is a Factory Girl from Norwich, England. More of her work can be read at
Dogmatika, Zygote in my coffee and

No comments: