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• Artiste: Alison Moyet
• Titre: April 10th
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Fog Like boiled wool Felt-tight Rolled in as though a bale of hay introduced And there grew up a wall of concrete grey Cutting brief the promenade And swallowing whole companion dogs Ahead a pavilion measured in steps Levitates Just Beneath the press And bears the weight on its rigid knees Quadruped Biped Floating harbour for the gulls at ease No room left but these Empty yards that Gather in Crew-neck close Audience-early Arrived for a keener view The beach huts thrust proud their Pink and purple chests The old guard Fearing less Squat broad And make limp protest Behind now exists not And this way turns only one page at a time Today I have hope where you have none Hunkered down in bell-jar space made Strange this hour in this light I wonder if you have ever touched me In some other sea Against my yesterday skin Skimmed me briefly Neither knowing we’d be here both Moon towing To and froing A room is changed dependent on the door By which we enter You met windows of many aspects I, the walls and hooks for coats to hang Yours the garden song and Mine the rumbling thrum of the rail yard All terminals arrived at Words like fall-out Ash where there was none Already in the blood Some people we don’t mean to lose They snag on branches and separate in market squares And then the trains this way and that Scan barcode faces into something grey