All Fields

His pierced left eyebrow, gives him clarity within crowds,
yet the swagger offers little shelter from the pain.

On his return, the streets seem to have shrunk over the years
like a matchstick village built by retired hands.

He feels he can reach out and crush them in his now
cracked and brittle fists.

Outside the old off-licence, now a four day tanning salon,
echos of the old crowd ring in his ears, he crushes the
cigarette filter, flips it towards the collapsing birds nest.

He dances a slow jig under the C.C.T.V camera, that's
clearly never turned on, chasing his shadow's tail,
he collapses in toothless wonder.

Jonathan Butcher has been writing poetry for around four years. He has currently had work appear in various underground magazines in his local area, as well as online publications including Underground Voices and Black Listed. He currently runs poetry music and art nights in Sheffield in the north of England. He juggles this with his rather duller existance working in a city based call centre.

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