From the Prodigal I by Jonathan Beale

Winter was not that far behind, it never was, it was there touching the shoulder.
Feeling the cold breath on my shoulder, unaware of the seasons touch:
time trawls…. Still under the enchantment of this Yorkshire moon,
just as Phosphorus is welcoming the opportunistic hand that drops
down the through the saturated clouds: drawing and invigorating –
some blind puppeteers fumbling.

I find the first cigarette – the mechanics of the arm deposit between my
lips the metallic click – Then silence.  My brain needs that double espresso of nicotine –
the orange and the blue – The first spark of smoke filling my lungs.
The dawn – every day I seek out coffee my Lourdes and my Matins from lists of places
up the cobbled streets and down ravenous tramlines: –
From Samford Bridge – to – Howden – to – North Ferriby – to – Elloughton – to – Brough –
and finally to –Beverly. Back across The Moors.

Jonathan Beale
Jonathan Beale has poems published in Penwood Review, Danse Macabre, Poetic Diversity, Down in the Dirt, Mad Swirl, Deadsnakes, Bitchin Kitsch, Pyrokinection, Ygdrasil, Van Gogh’s Ear, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Jawline Review, Bluepepper, Jellyfish Whispers, The Outsider, and Yellow Mama. His work has appeared in such books as ‘Drowning’ (Scar publications) and ‘The Poet as Sociopath’ (Scar publications). He is currently working on his second volume. His first collection of poetry ‘The Destinations of Raxiera’ is published by Hammer & Anvil. He studied philosophy at Birkbeck College London and lives in Surrey England.

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