Waiting for the world to end | in Indiana | in Sheffield | in Nairobi | Killing time | working in a body shop | beauty parlour | backing horses | building muscle cars | Grease has spilled | under the white fluorescent strip light | and nothing can compare | despite the dull | ache in your head | with the black | jewels of flies | circling the work bench | there is nothing more in | the Earth’s | store | to hold the beauty down and turn it | humble or ugly | and the litre can | of Coulson’s Oil | cocoa brown, with the purple band | shines, and the world | ends

Standing, very still, in a crop circle | cut in wheat | chopper | clattering overhead, high | drones higher | a glorified mower | Standing | dumb- | founded | by the side of the road | acid blue | strobe of police lights | ambulances | casting pulses over the wrecks | silver | foil around shoulders | Standing | bedded by angels | after the final | of the music’s | breakers has hushed | waiting | for the world to start | not this world | but the world of oceans | world of oceans and before and dragonflies, but this world | just goes on, it just keeps | ending

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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