Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

On warm summer evenings, with a light rain falling,
And the soft hiss of tyres on the rain-washed streets.
Waiting under damp leaves
That darken as the evening dies.
Or in some shop doorway,
To shelter from the bitter wind
That bellows down the empty street
In the wild spinning of the snow.
Spending carelessly each season of the year,
With patient waiting for love to make her entrance.

He does not like the mornings.
Waking to another danse-macabre of grey dawning,
That seeps slowly through the belly of the city.

He will feel much better when he smiles into the mirror
And sees the pretty diamonds shining in his teeth.
It was expensive and unpleasant, work by a specialist dentist.

The lady who is his best worker,
The one who loves him most,
She wakes up sick and angry
And does not love herself.
Sitting by her mirror
She puts on her working face.
She feels her flesh wrap emptiness
And every morning feels like this.
Not knowing why she loves him so,

She will never guess, nor will he ever tell her,
That they are very much the same.
They just use different mirrors.

He walks beneath the huddled starlings along the greasy street
Where the morning frost is melted by the thin gleam of the sun.
His shirt is silk from China, and the gold around his neck
Is palest old Peruvian, like the strap on his wristwatch.
A ruby eye pins his tie like the blood-drop of a saint.
He has breakfast with his mother, who complains about her feet.
Have you ever seen a gin-filled cat? He leaves her there to
                                                                                   ponder that.
He has no conversation, outside of business hours,
And the business of his mother, is not business that he wants.

She loves the way he is so clean.

He is as clean as the rain.
There is no sex, not even a kiss.
He is pure, but always there.
                Like God.
Like a God who values her
Like God her loving father
He has become like God to her.

He met her in the park,
The day before her world grew dark.
“I know the names of streets and cities.
But not the names of trees.”

She told him they were poplar trees,
And he seemed impressed.
He smiled with diamonds in his teeth,
And her heart was lost.
That’s how she got her street name.
Her street name is “popular”.