Stephen Barry

Down decaying lanes of chalk,
lemon tendrils of brittle smiles
broken by fate's error.

His memory leaks in egg-cracks,
trapped in a box: perspex, wood, litter, straws, civilsation's dandruff,
trying to make sense,
trying to escape the thorned woods
of crumbled glass,
to find the icing fields of rest.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.