Welded Arm
Here -
Where...hollow buildings shadow painted moment..
Where...dull flowers pilfer hedgerow litter..
Where...warehouse beams trap steel smile and welded arm..
Where...daily trauma functions alongside passing rumour..
Where...lost faces merge with condemned brick..
is the place language comes to die.
Small Fish
Here -
Where...gilded bark sinks wild animal muddied path..
Where...small fish paper local canal..
Where...plastic scaffolding is blown from derelict shelter..
Where...threatened glance reveals suspicion of the new..
Where...bad health is assumed..
is the place language comes to die.
Glass Light
Here -
Where...anonymous hands trade new and old signatures..
Where...construction is blind..
Where...feeling twists bitter movement..
Where...reflected glass light signposts narrow lane..
Where...knuckled welcomes operate..
is the place language comes to die.
Evenings Shadow
Here -
Where...narrow lane adventures are captured in muddy headlight and cry of tortured bird..
Where...broken lives are inherited..
Where...evenings shadow lies distressed on ripped rock and moss border..
Where...isolated youth walk through decades of frosted vision..
Where...small trees blanket fallen brick..
is the place language comes to die.
Tacky Metal
Here -
Where...Sunday morning dead mans clutter waits for eager hands..
Where...open spaces become dog bound and burnt by fogged spite..
Where...anonymous kiosk cards are pierced carelessly on stolen spike rod..
Where...tacky metal emblems cling to half shredded sprayed walls of distant commerce..
Where...skin is scissored..
is the place language comes to die.
Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication
From Deaf Ear - MicroFlashFiction: A Compilation, An 11.59 Publication
