Three Poems by Julian Cason

UHW

I am stowed
with others
for an unsought voyage,
deep
within the hospital
in a windowless
weatherless
orlop.

Cargo
held by wires
and stained
by the seep
of jaundiced bulbs

compelled
to take
bed-bound
a Middle Passage,
where living
is plotted
as the barest sketch of shore.

Soon
lax sheets
begin their billows
and I feel
the rolling sway
of polished
tiles

round my head
relentless electronics
bang,
marking my journey
like slack anchor chains,
as I ride
each
wave-breath.


From a photograph of two figures in mid-winter

Too far away
for me to hear
your drifts of laughter
in the snow,
or to weigh a sky,
that fell in flakes,
to bleach
the hour’s needed shadow.

Not to know
where your umbrella leads,
that tilt of blue,
incongruous,
within the scrub
of famished trees.

And to miss
those later
lazy falls,
prised from branches,
in languid,
clumping
curtain-calls.


Thin Places

That afternoon
of gun-metal
low-slung skies,
I thought of what you said,
of the thin places
smudged with gods
where things not seen
were felt instead.

Cool
square-stoned buildings,
cradling empty spaces
with an air that
bled
a crafted stillness,
over hinged
and expectant faces.

And once
on a gullied hillside,
too exposed
for wooded coyness.
There, between the casual flicks
of a peppercorn rain
something
so nearly present,
yet again.

Where
for those few steepled seconds
each loose flap of wind
became a curtain
beckoning.

 

Julian has two jobs. He works both as a lawyer and as a poet. Within a law firm, he helps the victims of historic asbestos exposure. As a poet he explores the joys, crises and banalities of life. Born and raised in Cardiff. Most recently published in Envoi, edition 177 and Pulp Poets Press.

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