Closed Til April (Glenroy Lent #7)

Nothing else open at this time, only this one ageing witness to morning weakness. Yet even the shop at the station’s closed – “til April”, as though the station itself were fasting. In uncomfortable chairs, a man sleeps, unlikely to remember the morning trains, and outside the transit of ash to dawn, a vermilion promiseContinue reading “Closed Til April (Glenroy Lent #7)”

How we wait

The taste of hospitals and airports says: You are here under whatever circumstances, tired, no doubt stressed. Have a coffee. Sit down. No-one will care if you cry; everyone is going somewhere different sometime soon. Everyone is crying or dazed, on edge yet kept in secure wards or waiting gates, volatile, yet in comfy chairs.Continue reading “How we wait”