William Park
Leaving
The stranger passes, a need departing
but we have captured our space
as we wait between two trees.
Those leaves are waving
goodbye in both directions,
the way the breeze blows.
Today we’ve walked the beach,
the resistance of usual life
swept back by the railway track
spanning the sea. Waves potched
white rocks (like bony hands melted
by sun) our toes kittled in sand.
Where will you smoke Sweet Afton,
or I breathe
the tobacco of unreal books?
Your lips are warm
and pressed into mine.
Now we are here, but leaving
this retreat town to the night.
Our train is arriving,
lit windows, for us.
Page(s) 106
magazine list
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- Chroma
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- Lamport Court
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- Magma
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- North, The
- Oasis
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
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- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
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- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
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- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
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- Yellow Crane, The