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Sunday, 30 September 2012

Kevin Reid


He tries to sell his cream at markets;
the phased neutering of brothels
helps. His shivering spine is a mirror
of families overdosed on self help.
On the street his ears come into flower,
on the road years go missing. With roots
come other burdens.

Used and useless amidst a jungle of graffiti:

Grey underwear
sodden trousers
a torn shirt
a stained mattress
swollen like my sockless feet…

…bigger worries…this perpetual limbo…
short-lived kindness…honest things
dying off.

Intoxicated, I'm instantly transported…a shoe
shop …in the window a row of yellow light bulbs
like neglected teeth …scattered and faded
family photographs  …extinguished candles
…a nun in a red rubber habit …a rare burst
of laughter… she asks, “What size do you wear?”

…still high on fumes of rubber glue…
…strange faces speak in tongues just to get a job… I can't
do shit for money…

…a young artist paints the high street
and comes up with today…the big issue…

…I don't want to be paid for my services,
just lend me a family 100% true.

He talks to a street vender
About perfume and broken lines;

…a chance to reinvent myself…

©Kevin Reid Sept. 2012

Kevin Reid lives and works as a librarian in Angus, Scotland. He studied English Literature at the University of Dundee. He has a key role in organising Scotland’s longest running teenage book award. His poetry has appeared in various publications, such as, Pushing Out the Boat, Scottish Poetry Review, heavy bear, The Recusant, and Counterexample Poetics. Body Voices, his first chapbook, will be published very soon by Crisis Chronicles Press.

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