by Christopher Barnes
Three shivered in grave clothes.
We were bent
Upon the noiseless foot of time,
Whispers under a kitchen table-cloth, repulsed
By a snigger sounding crystal, hail.
An act-a-part day’s meddling.
Money-s worth –
It’s unseasonable.
The moods in us snagged
In this racket-plague hospitality. Stark,
Vaporous sunset behind curtains.
Christopher Barnes’ first collection LOVEBITES is published by Chanticleer. He is a participant writer for http://www.stemistry.com/ and reads at Poetry Scotalnd’s Callendar Poetry Weekends. He has also written art criticism for Peal and Combustus magazines.
The 22 Magazine 