late-night monologue – Iain Britton

Potroast #10 featured an excerpt of a poem by Iain Britton. We wanted to make the whole poem available to read, so here it is. Enjoy!

late-night monologue

be like this – be transitory

a gateway obstacle

          to the next apartment

where a sigh escapes in a roll-your-own breath

where a stool takes the sudden shift of my weight

and a late-night monologue    

                          loads

a listener’s request

to practise walking

down a long tunnel

        gutted by ancestral burnings       

<>

I offer my version

of events as they happen

you aren’t sure about the rain

it’s coldness

the integers      parenthesised

on your arms          or the inked letters

of a name  

               tattooed in sunsets							

recapitulation is all talk / dredge work / more talk

              you’re into the habit of quickly

shutting doors

<>

but who’ll step up          make

                    altar-suggestions

of stained-glass jabberings reflected on the mount

                   who’ll request a right

to what I’ve hung      drawn and arranged
in every room

<>  

a water-colour        shoves a church

through my window / monuments

       crumble into drunks
                        mixed genders
                                  angels in shabby clothes

a crowd         hacks at the air to get a look in
they knock at places with rooms to let

you pick up another man’s junk

we are witnesses to things as they happen

                we make apes of ourselves

                leave slag heaps for neighbours
                turn our backs on backs

                we avoid confrontations					

zeroing-in

on the mischievous cackle of a river
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