Jokes about tights coming down
as function and intrigue
overlap, we wander through
alien landscapes, naming
a jellyfish, a dinosaur's head
the outline of a bat
surrounded by bats.
The deeper we wander
the more we press to talk
then at the bottom of our journey
we turn off our head torches
Listening to the echoes of drips
in complete darkness
we remind ourselves
(as best we can)
what it is like
to not be there.
Up early for Paris
Set the functioning light's bare grey, barren glow
against my yawning senses, up early for Paris.
The scalps of twenty other passengers, set ahead
equally struggle with air, thought and communication.
I preferred it on the station
floor, cold, beneath John Betjeman's statue.
I preferred it in the early
shower, hot faced and bleak eyed in the clouded mirror.
I preferred it in your bed,
dreaming of fresh apricots at the height of winter.
Rhuar Dean is a poet, writer and occasional journalist based in Washington DC. His work has appeared both in print and online. His poem Kennington Dawn was featured by Octavius in June, and can be found here.
More information is available at www.rhuardean.com