Fill in the Blanks

A single scrawl across a frozen puddle,
the ice webs across the water beneath it,
which restricts its urge to create waves,
and keep its surface as calm as

A pressure felt across this greyed
out city; streetlights which shatter
in tandem, create a shower
of privatised glass, which embeds
itself into each of our pores.

In the abandoned garages
and office blocks, a small gang break
windows, each brick thrown chimes
a different note, like untuned piano keys,
a melody no one can follow.

The hours tick, as these streets
Hang pensively, any warmth
now a distant trek. The bars now
hang empty, signalling this celebration
ended months ago; those left
in the Town Hall chambers,
finally drink the dust from their glasses.

Jonathan Butcher is a poet based in Sheffield, England. He has had poems appear in various print and online publications including The Morning Star, Mad Swirl, Drunk Monkeys, The Abyss, Cajun Mutt Press and others. His fourth chapbook, Turpentine, was published by Alien Buddha Press. He is also the editor of online poetry journal Fixator Press. Read other articles by Jonathan.