Izzy circle


notice the way the guitarist’s feet
fold over each other,
hold each other

‘feelin’ good’ in a French accent
at an open mic under the stairs
trying not to care about the cold

looking stoic, seeing double, there are
matching mugs, new clothes
a spare towel and so
in this bed

a bent cigarette on the table
Robin is singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’
and the walls drip
and someone sighs.


Sarah circle


My lips are cracking at the corners
For want of your kisses.



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