The City

They pass like lovers
whose glances bruise in regret,
their eyes caught in the crossfire.

Although a swell of feeling
unravels the quiet tapestry of their skin,
they swallow the sweetness of this meeting

so, at night, they sleep in singles,
dreaming memories they haven’t got the courage to make.

© Keighley Perkins

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About handshedown

Keighley Perkins is a Cardiff-based poet whose influences include Anis Mojgani, Selima Hill and Richard Brautigan. Her work has previously been published in "Acumen", "Elbow Room", "Erbacce", "Fire", "Northwind" and "Obsessed with Pipework". She can also be found online on Twitter at @handshedown. View all posts by handshedown

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