llanw isel
steve coel
Hanging on to the bruised fence.
steve coel
Together
they sit
on the sidelines.
Watching
the tortured actions,
sweating up
the bruised melodies.
Girlfriends,
she in cotton,
she in leather.
Nose ringed
eyes slitted,
two glasses
one drink.
Together
they sit
in a pub back room.
Full of smoke
loud voices
groomed beards
and booted.
An 11.59 Publication, Birmingham / London
