Poetry

Dead Letter Boy

If I’d known what I’d knew now
I probably would have taken in the view.
The approaching chew of pristine gravel
And the spores of bubbling oil.

The panoramic glimpses
Were overdue – 1,200pcm ONO
I’ll stick to upturned ballrooms
And the chandeliers poised like spiders.

PAPER BIRDS fly north for winter.

Setting the televisions to multiples of five
I often cast shadow puppets
Upon the misplaced furniture
And rotary constellations.

A flickering Saturn upon flip topped faces
Curdling beneath the towering fluorescence
– ONLY 2 ROOMS LEFT.
The seasonal blossoming of vanity projects
Waiting for flight paths to unravel

& the choreographed scraping of dinner plates
Entered its 2nd week (8:00pm approx.)
Were you still dripping in fishhooks?

“I’ll double your rent if you Let me”.

Pennies pushed down blind alleys
For the dazzling nothingness of it all.
Was there a swansong to tune into?
I suppose we’ll appreciate this
When the last of its beneath our fingers.


Ross Maclean-Bryant is a poet from the southwest of England. He has been published in several literary magazines, anthologies and is a runner up of the Great British Write Off. To date, he has published two collections of poetry, Question Your Perception and Not My Choice of Hat, And Flogging a Clockwork Horse. Ross has performed his poetry at venues and festivals throughout Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, which form the backdrop and inspiration for a lot of his work. He also became Somerset Slam Champion in 2018.

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