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Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

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Emma-Jane Arkady

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Low

I am drifting, note the calendar:

How Turner degenerated into clouds,
ascended, depending on your point
of a view taken from a rush strewn field.

It is Friday and the rain slackens
off the pane of glass of an inner cut;
the depression that settles.

Slow-coach monkey-brain slack-knickers
called out over the playing fields
at the end of a week of wet breaks forced out.

There was a pit in the floor of the scullery
Phil's peelings collected there, mashed up
to a dull brown gloop on the cracked tile craze.

Back to considering clouds from an office window:

The stratus processed from the side to the pillar,
blended mist and grey clung dull;
one bird fled westwards out of its way.

I type mis-spellings, concentration lost
the plan drawn in to a pile of fragment bits
the afternoon stretched out as a puzzle.

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