A kilogram of steel feathers
Brutally buttons the sobering
Mattress of the sky to
The softness of the pavement.
Suppressed under the weight
Of what both flows and is stuck
In streams of treacle,
Thought and image,
I end up further along
Than I had anticipated
Before turning back,
Waiting for my shadow.
It had detached, longing
To float amongst those
Oppressed under the
Sky’s greying gravity.
In its catching up:
War vet
Sleeping bag bound
Closing bookshop
Salty restaurant, salivating intellectually.
The heavy sky no longer
Beckoned it forth with
Quite the forcefulness
It had done previously.
Rather, it was let go,
Running back to me,
Away from the tempter,
Away from the vast entity self-acknowledged.
Sam Huddlestone 