‘Sadwoman’ Poem from my Brighton Collection

I lived in Brighton for many years and often likened my relationship to Brighton to one with a lover you repeatedly try to leave but just…can’t….quite…do….it. I sometimes hated this city of contradictions but there was always an undercurrent of love there. Which is why it took me nearly 9 years to finally leave and move to Lewes, a quieter country town. I felt I needed to say goodbye to Brighton by writing about its many different aspects, the memories it held for me, the quirky associations.  Recently I’ve been gathering together the poems that came out of this and re-working them (and hopefully writing some more). I plan to bring them out in a Brighton Collection’ booklet.  Here’s a sample, a poem called ‘Sadwoman’.

Sadwoman

She breathes smoke in my face.

I sang,” she tells me with pride

etched hard in to her face.

They booed me off, but I sang.”

 

George Street, off St James’ St, Wednesday

night, I’m buzzing after dancing

with strangers, lifted into the light

of the stars above

this dinge,

rubbish under my feet,

 

I’m brought to a halt

outside the karaoke bar

by the bare need in her eyes.

 

I cannot hear her.

The stars are pulling my feet

like magnets to lodestones,

but in her poisoned aura

I can feel myself

losing my skip already –


so fragile, in this town,

this loose collection of misfits

brought together by the size of the sky.

 

She’s still staring at me, still

exhaling alcohol fumes

from her unsteady mouth.

She’s on the brink: tears,

madness, the breakdown

at the end of the night.

 

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About morgancnicholswriter

Writer, content creator/copywriter, poet, novelist, workshop facilitator
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