Night freight
By Parson Thru
- 1261 reads
My sleep is stolen from the strongroom of the night.
I turn the light on, pour myself a drink.
Hear the floorboards, then footsteps passing by my door.
A night-freight connects me to the life that went before.
The room is cluttered. Piles of books. Cases for guitars like sleeping beasts.
Which perfectly depicts my mind's itinerant and temporary state.
I send a WhatsApp. But it seems she’s not awake.
And I’m glad of this, imagining the noises of the compound, pictures by her bed.
My head swarms with formal metre and systemic rhyme.
The stench of urine fills the room. Soles sticky on the vinyl floor.
I pour a drink, listen as another freight fades out into the night.
Close the book, count the hours till morning and turn out the light.
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Comments
Really good. Just a thought.
Really good. Just a thought. I felt it needs another line on the end. To give a sense of motion, movement as the freight moves on / away. Just what I instinctively felt. Not a criticism.
And what's the Auden?
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I like the line you've added!
I like the line you've added! It adds just the right closure. Imo
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I don't know where you are or
I don't know where you are or how your are - safe and well I hope - but this definitely catches those sleepless hours when worries are huge and the tiniest sensory disturbance is magnified. I really liked that first line.
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