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Dec 2019
⁣Open scene, we begin, lights dimmed, back alley vibe, ominous.⁣ ⁣⁣

Air thick with viscous mist, ambience anxious, overtone venomous.

A young woman walks slow, headed home, fixated on her phone⁣ ⁣

ambulance tones punctuate the foreboding sense she shouldn’t be alone.⁣ ⁣⁣

Discounted high heels click, sticking slightly to flag stones, pace quickens⁣ ⁣⁣ ⁣accelerated heart ticking,

we feel her doubt, poisonous fear of this, modern Britain.⁣ ⁣⁣

She cups her hands, lights up a cig, grabs a bottle from her bag, takes a swig,⁣ ⁣⁣

⁣tosses the empty plastic vessel to the ground where it sits on a bed of moss and twigs…⁣

⁣⁣and hurries home safely, escaping the scene of the crime, unconvicted.⁣ ⁣

450 years later, a bottle lid chokes it’s 78th fish, last of a long list of murders unlisted.
I wrote this poem for an Instagram poetry competition. Each round contestants were given a prompt to write from, the first of which was this “last of a long list”.
Written by
Nick Steel
184
   Bogdan Dragos
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