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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Oct 2017
The noise
The floorboards creak
they did last week
and the week before,
**** them creaky
floorboards
and
**** my hide
if
my bones inside
aren't creaking too.
something to do with age
they tell me, but
I never heard the pyramids
creak
did you?
It's Saturday and early,
where will we go later on?
to the Lyons corner house
for
Darjeeling and a scone?
or
has that already gone?
They're tearing it all down,
the things that made this town
so memorable and
when it's all been taken far away
we'll wonder what
a Saturday
is for.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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