Mark Speight (CIVIL RECOVERY)

 

I think of Speights Paddington

his remote area

where the body hung

for six days, 

his face pervades eaves ornate 

terracotta ridges & the tower steep slate, 

its four-hipped

the buzz of the British Transport Police Office 

illegible mosaics 

crawling through

a worksong, for tomorrow's

roaming junket on the other side 

between two lives

I was a victim of true alienation 

& how right you are to hate me 

because I’ve got the terrible truth 

in my bones

a heart bent over,

grey crushed velour 

sequin curtain drops 

this time for hyperpartisanship 

but was it the strength of guava

that put the vanguard on the rocks

from cloisters to Sussex Downs, 

crashing out the Odd

today gets buried inside a cloud 

of seditious lines covered

Rosewood Calf Leather kick me down 

this gangway job pissed town 

to hone on taste,

 at the Ability Grouping table

comradesolidarity mewling in circles circles

as Kangaroo Court decides WhatsApp Curse

i am told about myself from windowsills 

gallspite &trite manifestos

so I roll up on goldenrods

Black-eyed Susans

& self stick in the craw

the rust on toolheaded river beds 

spreads like a carbamide wash

cantata lumpen denominator 

sees sanctified 

by so many strung up elevens, 

on a square of 

clemency everyday with clove 

basted when the morning leaves the 

moon approaching mostly in tears.