Too Short

Thomas Hutchinson

I find my eyes amongst the hailing greys,
central, like the principal teaching
in an overcrowded frame;
colour as the beating heart,
and heaving skies around the margins, screaming
vicious to the suddenly uncovered,
though dutiful to the plot

There’s a brother of mine, dwindling
over the surface of an ocean
while I’m perched atop a buoy,  
staring fiercely at the horizon, trying
to open my mouth and swallow it whole;
not to throw the auteur, making
a blessing of my giant head

I’ll expel my dubious wants;
rent across the lino – paid, and
squandered. Will my paddling feet be next?  
I stay, and watch a punter whisper to his kid;  
he makes the case for getting down sooner, next,
to squeeze the establishing shot back through the lens

Thomas Hutchinson

Thomas Hutchinson lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, and works in manufacturing.

Issue 35
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