Brian Dodds

place de la mairie crisp
december morning walking
past the flower stalls deep
...

suddenly a rainbow had inked itself
across the camargue sky, seemingly
sucking colours from the flat greyness
...

It was astounding talk about
the forty shades of green
multiply that a few times
the rain the spuds in fields
...

a plane noses down toward heathrow
heads in from the chiswick line-up
winking across the line of orions belt
...

Cold stinging rain beats on pot-holed tarmac.
Down at the corner, opposite the pub,
they're throwing up another samey clutch
of pokey des-res boxes, muddy birth-pangs
...

it's dark in here
but not because it's night

it's dark in here
...

A huge dark cloud squats on Tipton,
a giant panda eye rimmed brightly
with zinc-oxide edges, where elsewhere
someone enjoys late evening sun. Suddenly
...

A small spider hangs motionless,
roughly six inches from the ceiling,
under a narrow crack in the anaglypta.
Perhaps it is watching me while
...

walked around the lake watched
it whipped like forked egg-white peaks

by a bitter wind enemy of bald heads
...

The new moon has the old moon in her arms tonight,
and over Moseley the air is still, the stars wink

feebly through the light-spill of the city,
...

are sometimes like baguettes. Fresh
and warm they start, replete with promise

of visceral suffusion, certain satiation.
...

This is the last door,
the one that no-one wants to open.

This is the last door,
...