The Collage

Coloured translucent, beyond the crinkly

yellow of the sweet-wrapper he’s just unwrapped
penny toffee, a disc now being spun

‘cross the horizon you see it glow, grow
sticky in his fingers – he’d liked Quality Streets

or was it Roses – you can’t remember
this one was always particularly sweet to the touch

and still dividing loyalties, as the disc spins
on the desk

you wait for it to land but he keeps flicking his nail at the edge
as though it were a coin, or a die

unwilling to decide one way or other, preferring
nothing to the silence from a twin you chose

Instead, the hazy way he looks as you hold tracing paper up to the light

x

I HATE penny sweets… not sure why I just wrote a poem on the subject. Anything to avoid the imminent inevitability of essaying I suppose.

~ by Reda Haq on April 22, 2008.