|Arsenic Lobster poetry journal||
|Battersea Power Station, 4A.M.
I cannot see the stars here.
In the distance
the four monstrous
arms of the disused power station
are stretching themselves
toward a black sky-
Traffic drags itself toward destinations
I know nothing of
so far from your face,
the scent of the house we grew up in.
The sea is the only barrier,
vast in its arrogance.
In dreams I hear you speak to me
but always I wake to the garbled
sound of foreign accents mashed in mouths
resembling nothing I know well.
I wanted to tell you-
they remind me of you.
About Lorcán Black