Places I No Longer Visit

Those chambers
across the water
beneath the moon pinned
its hair and sang to beg the maples
not crumble
and the wind not ill-natured
and the trees still bent against it.

The station,
with suitcase ironed
and cracked
and the four o’clock arrived
at five the wrong way
on the right train
as the sun roasted
the cottage hay,
back itching with mice.

The pathway, as it rained
bones and rainbows
stamped their feet
beside the pergola noosed
with dead beans swinging
beneath a room
locked at the summit,
of rotten stars and light
beneath – grief’s standard,
damp on its knees,
testing the wind.

GJ Hart currently lives and works in London and has had stories published in The Molotov Cocktail, Jersey Devil Press, The Harpoon Review and others. He can be found arguing with himself over @gj_hart.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Places I No Longer Visit

  1. Pingback: Delighted to have a new #poem up today at the wonderful EunoiaReview – GJ Hart

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