nocturne

& with a blunt cafeteria table knife
mr macadam clerical officer bludgeons
the half poached egg that is his
on toast every while he can take it
on a disused glasgow subway stair some
old shored up harry with an empty alum-
inium cigar case stuck on his pinky howls
because just when he hoped to come across
someone purse proud frost corrugated his
brow and queues of maybe misters grew
and passed him swirled in and out of the
tube loudly cheered on by the vendors
of newspapers grapefruit and clockwork
motored poodles almost ignoring this
washed up howler in the grinding of
escalators & the moan of never answered
platform phones but they wouldnt let
him be with his empty aluminium cigar
case & his bent to & fro cane walking
stick the ticket collectors & porters
came folk with swordfish in their flies
& steelcapped ex WD boots & because he
was howling dry & didnt have anyone to
come to & couldnt find his ticket & was
clutching his frosted head in his hands
they trod him en passant they took up
his dessicate berries in their flaking
nails
there were no tears i couldnt stop to
watch it i had someone waiting & anyway
it was too painful to me the grating of
escalators the clash of plates & knives
the condescensions of onlookers celebrat-
ing around that dirty bed i do not wish
to be this clerk soothed by stirring
his battered egg ignoring the old broke
guy hell one day be with his bowed head
of frost in the subway shouting his howl
dry for want of tears