Doorways

by Susan Evans / September 18th, 2016

1 a.m. Sunday morning, as I exit Brighton station,
Blue Man is swinging – you gotta love this town!
Swing by Clock Tower, along North Street; feel
my smile turn upside down – in the doorway of
Thomson’s Holidays and doorway of Barclays Bank
and doorway of the Body Shop and on and on, bodies
sleep tonight; somebody’s child, sister, brother,
mother, father, grandparents, friends; crashed
out on the steps of commerce in cardboard dens,
blue bags, faux fur throws – so vulnerable and
exposed. Unmoved by passersby ? early to `bed’,
early to rise ?up with the sun if the chill doesn’t
bite first… feel urge to place treasure under every
head, leave silver, breakfast trays with pancakes
and sweet maple syrup and a note that says: this
has been a bad dream ?no more cold, mean streets
or dodgy alternatives for you, you see, “we”
aspired to be like that Canadian city in the news
(Medicine Hat, Alberta) where homelessness is
no longer a Big Issue – so pack up your troubles!

Susan Evans was shortlisted Best Spoken Word Performer In the Saboteur Awards, 2016, Best Act (Cunning Linguists) at L-Fest, 2016, and shortlisted for the Erbacce Prize for Poetry, 2016, is widely published in independent anthologies, magazines & journals; in print & online, including: The High Window, I am not a silent poet, The Journal, Prole, Proletarian Poetry, The Stare’s Nest, Writer’s for Calais Refugees, Yellow Chair Review, and Your One Phone Call. Her debut collection is due for release in early 2017. You can find her here: https://www.facebook.com/Susan-Evans-Performance-poet-485340264922817/ Read other articles by Susan.

This article was posted on Sunday, September 18th, 2016 at 8:01am and is filed under Poetry.