An iron chain on the trawler, Plymouth harbour
heavy, rusted catches my attention
Your arms round my neck and shoulders
Sub-frequency
Cold claw in my stomach
You remind me of the remand home
Babies with steel fists
keep a watchout for fools
Remember when we studied ourselves
Knew the machine
its tricks and combinations
Was all that a waste of time?
– to just drop into glamour
– bait and be baited
I'm free to drive home
~ ~ ~
come together
everyone else
I normally manage to shake off
somewhere in between the heights
and the low parts
with contradictions and variance
suitably unlabelled
It's not really meant to drive away
but after a season I glance back
and must conclude
it looks so
I'll stick to one approach
forge a career out of it