Close

hands in

 

pockets

 

everyone

a          mass

 

ferry ticket boxes hung with

orange

cacophony crowds

 

automatically

decorated

tables with empty

dispositions

 

A man stood

doing nothing

 

a secret society

united by

superiority

 

Monday          restaurants were

ceremonial

 

Umbrellas      fluttered

one, then another

 

White teeth, like teeth

seen                countless times before

only     here-now

 

The monumental is               what we expect.

Black Out Poem


By Eteluina

View more poems from Red Room Education at Liverpool Girls' High School