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

April 15th 18:30

Evening. The bougainvillaea
almost colourless. White Rolls
parked, right-hand drive.
Scarlet clouds staining windscreen.
Map of the city on back seat;
travelling rug; binoculars.

April 15th 11:45

Slim windows ajar
on to balcony. No wind.
Body half in bright sunlight;
blood spilt near marquetry table.
Two wineglasses. Lipsticked cigarette
in marble ashtray. 

April 14th 19:00

Talk, laughter, in the high room.
Lawns darkening as lights
prick on in the murky harbour.
Frogged uniforms, champagne,
orders worn. Honey-skinned youth
in evening dress smiles once more
catching his eye across the gathering.

April 16th 08:00

Wet newspaper spread on chair-back
to dry. UNEXPLAINED DEATH
OF PROMINENT DIPLOMAT. The bracts
glisten beyond window in rain.
Smell of coffee, hot bread. White top
glimpsed across road. One
mackintoshed policeman
peering down from opposite balcony. 

April 14th 11:45

Empty chair at cafe table.
Square a brilliant yellow.
Awning thwacked by the breeze.
Tall glass before her. Dark lenses,
large hat. Impatiently
glances at her watch.


April 15th 07:00

Street empty. Hint of dew
on the groomed gardens.
Briefcase on passenger seat,
stole draped across, also a map
carefully folded. 

April 14th 11:45

Youth plunges shivering
into wind-flung spray. The rocks
seem deserted. He races him
along beach to get warm
before picnicking in the Rolls. 

April 14th 20:15

Light from the open mahogany
door falls on the curve of gravel.
Slender woman, orchid in her hand,
waits on the flight of steps,
stole gathered around her.
Thin wind under the rising moon
makes the wisteria tremble.
The Rolls pulls up.

April 14th 23:30

Room silent except for their sleep.
Moonlight through drawn curtains colours
gracefully their casual limbs.

April 15th 12:00

Male figure unhurrying
crosses street. Grey Fiat
moves out from behind parked van.
Parallel with the Rolls,
stops. Noon siren from factory.
Man now between cars.
Slam of two doors. The Fiat
descends the boulevard,
woman driving. No-one now
on road or sidewalk.

April 15th 23:30

No moon. Only the street-lamps
and winking lights on the police-cars.
First prickle of rain.