Beneath the Street Lighting

It was dark and beneath the
street lighting it was hard to
see what was happening and
the several pleading, urgent
adult voices leapt sharp into
the night and I was 7 or 8
years old and my father was
brawling in the street with
his younger brother, my uncle,
and then everything went quiet
and then screams tore into the
black as my uncle had been
punched to the ground and
wasn’t moving and my
father backed away beneath
the street lighting and I
saw the pain and panic in his
face as an ambulance was
called for; a few months
later my uncle died of
leukaemia and my father
drank harder, never forgiving
himself or forgetting that
night beneath the street
lighting; it haunted him to
his end
just like he haunts me right
now, thinking of that
night, that look on his face
has been a mirror I’ve
looked into for too long
and I’m tired of it.

John D Robinson was born in the UK in 1963. His work has been published widely in the small press and online literary journals: BareBackLitRed FezDead Snakes, Your One Phone Call, Yellow Mama, Chicago Record, UndergroundBooks, Zombie Logic Review, Outsider Poetry, BOLD MONKEY, and Napalm And Novocain. Upcoming work appearing in Hobo Camp Review, Locust Magazine, Cavalcade of Stars, Message in a Bottle Poetry Magazine, and Sentinel Literary Quarterly. He is married with 1 daughter, 2 grandchildren, 3 cats, 1 dog and he likes drinking wine and listening to quietness.

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One Response to Beneath the Street Lighting

  1. cupcakecache says:

    I like your style of poetry.

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