Canto CXL

I’m downing espressos with my mate Wellsy
at the Phoenix Cafe in Coldharbour Lane,
we talk of poetry, old films and wrestling,

the first is in the state it’s always been,
a glass clinking ripple as we’d expect it.
We remember Todd Moore and his wise saying

about how a poem should come hard as a bullet
and soft as a tit; the old films stay old
and ageless in the way they hit their target.

The wrestlers rest while feigning strangleholds,
holding their pose like classical statues
contorted by the pressures of the world,

the chorus raise their placards high, argue
the merits of their heroes, wish them luck.
The son’s refrain is countered by the father

as “Lets go Cena” becomes ” Cena sucks!”


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jan 18, 2012 @ 11:53:02

    I’m going away and think about this one.

    It’s ok for you, you only have to write this stuff…I have to extract meaning from it.


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