poem by Joe Currie

There is some magnatism here

pulling this room towards yours

across the dark street

with the hum-taxis

and callous streetlights.

This world is leaning

to the point of collapse

Aching its way to you

in some concave spiral.

These are lonely nights

drowning in pooled tears

from car headlights.

In the dimming light

I often wonder

if I'm worth saving,

but in the darkness

the steady beat:

I am

I am.

***

Joe Currie is a Midlands born and Essex based writer. He enjoys drinking whiskey, reading books and playing the drums.

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