RICH NIGHT

Number 2-0428

Image by Mark Renney

Listening from the bridge
In the silence
Between
Each clank on the rail

Building my pockets
With coal

Sleepers dug in
Like shadows
SHADOWS
HADOWS
ADOWS
DOWS
OWS
WS
S

Lopsided carriage
Bales on the muddy bank

Night spills on to the table
And the patches between
The lightest touch
A dusting brush
Reducing all heavy objects.

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6 comments

  1. chrisnelson61

    Some succulent imagery here, Mark. I get an impression of movement yet loss too. I love the lines ‘ Building my pockets, With coal’. I keep reading this poem as it seems to touch a deep nerve. Fine writing!

  2. scottishmomus

    I have an impression here of those, in the past, who collected dropped coal from moving coal lorries (hasps deliberately loosened) although, in this case, from a train. And who can view a train from a bridge and not be hypnotised by its sounds and motion, the image of the diminishing sleepers caught beautifully. And so to home with the loot. I see the last lines as the pockets now emptied, black against dark. I’m back in my gran’s house about now with the brass companion set on the hearth, poker, tongs and soft-bristled brush at the ready to keep the tiles clean and clear of dust and debris from the sometimes fallout. Very visual to me and a story evoked within another story perhaps. Very much enjoyed this. I agree with Chris on that perfect line. Apt title too.

  3. markrenney2

    Your comment is a short story in itself and if my poem took you back to a happy memory then I am more pleased than you can know. Regards Mark.

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