Issue
#1

January
2009

a poem by Richard Wink

ST. STEPHENS STREET

A pensioner falls hard on the pavement
clutching his pigeon chest
he acts as an ill-advised traffic cone
interrupting the morning commute.
People step over
even the Samaritans.

His mouth opens, directed by Cronenberg
his liver gurgles because of the Kronenbourg
a dramatic wail causes further interruption.
One lady passerby removes the earpiece from her
iPod just so she can hear her
own astute proclamation of
'What the fuck.'

© Richard Wink

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