UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
CHRIS MAJOR

Damaged

Ward 93 where
there was always someone
screaming or shouting,
letting off enough steam
to distill surroundings
to a hell purer than
the drink you craved.

You,
hardly speaking,
so distant,
the gap between us
forcing imagination's leap
to a common ground
of years ago-
of drink free days.

Discharge.

The usual glimmers of hope,
covered this time
by acrid smoke,
soot that blackens
a dingy flat,
then,
for years,
moods and days................


Numb

Initially, pins 'n' needles
were of little concern ;
meaning filter tips
not roll your own,
just the squashing of plastic glasses
in dim dirty bars.
Then it progressed,
both hands,
and your grip slackened on
job,
pride,
self esteem.

Reclusive,
you lost touch.
Three op's and many tablets
left you as allusive
as a diagnosis.

The numbness spread-
first feet and legs,
then friends and family
via phone.........


Chris Major's work has appeared online at Zygote in my coffee,
My Favorite Bullet, Remark, Lily, Stirring,Pemmican, Snakeskin
and Underground Voices.







2006 Underground Voices