thin slip – Nick Allen

thin slip

walking with a stoop   like a man carrying the weight
of two hearts in his chest   the silhouette pares
an unlikely path across the smeared edge of dawn

the mundane sun of a yellow street lamp
drops light that fails to hit the ground
squadrons of starlings flicker from darkness to darkness

the valley trembles under this thin slip of a morning

swaddled in mists that ensnare sound   there is no rain
yet everything is damp
roof tiles licked a deeper shade   dry unevenly

a river   heard not seen   admits of motion
that we had stopped believing in
I reach for your hand once more   and fail   once more


Nick is from Yorkshire and would be a great deal more miserable if it weren’t for good whisky and strong coffee.