Literature in Sheffield.
the Christmas coca cola truck tinsel and baubles plastic tree and flashing lights are hard to take
she finds my real tree wooden toys and paper decorations boring and pretentious
but we both know that neither of us chose what makes us happy.
TRISTAN MOSS.
Vicissitude.
part of me's one of those picturesque villages that's stayed the same for strangers who have no interest in nearby places that had to change.
TRISTAN MOSS.
|upon a steeped slope the captain's cottage rests and a kiss
the old arch reveals a leopard woman majestic
murmuring tide advancing galloping tongues of rock enticing a lover's death
the pier funnels the waves surging against the harbour wall
fossils use the wet sand communicating their story dense stories of sorrow
an awkward silhouette beneath a smugglers tunnel
the sky is mottled full of rain and promises
is there a lighthouse here? how fast is the tide?
our boots full of sea water a quiet happiness basks the town
waves roll in atop the undertow even while the city encases us
Butterflies seem rare this year.
TOM LYNAM.
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