With a flick of wrist
darkness came
the songs ended.
One cold snap decision
rebalance
porcelain white
now crimson red.
There is no place for you
no
space for you
no second fucking
chance for you.
You
facing east for a
thousand years
spectator to
every salty sunrise
never once
flinching
as we naughty waves
danced around your feet.
You
standing tall
against bitter wind and storm
our guardian.
You
now observe
the darkened clouds
fill the horizon
our defender
eroding
slowly washed away
as you crumble
down into the sea.
David R Gemmell lives in Glasgow. You may chance upon him in one of the city’s coffee shops, where he will be skulking in a corner with notepad and pen. He has had his poetry published in several anthologies, but yet he still craves international stardom through the power of his tactical skill in fantasy football management.
–Art by Denis Olivier