MEETING Comments

Above the plinth's a phosphorescent glow.
A silent square. Some distant breaking glass.
I stand stock-still, feel drained of blood and low.
I, who myself my mother's father was.

I cannot count the hours that I stand there.
My pancreas sustains a stabbing blow.
Once more a chime. I have to follow her.
Not waiting for me's hardly comme il faut.

Tonight I fear I'll swiftly grow much older.
A creak - behind I sense a ghostly shade.
‘I'm whom you seek.' I'm tapped upon the shoulder.
‘Indeed, a pleasure - Nathan, advocate.'
...
Read full text