Tom Kelly

Two Poems

Green Clock

His breath putters,

apes the gas fire.

Solicitor makes notes:

dates, jobs carried-out, contacts…

He forces replies.

The green clock

bought last Christmas

five minutes fast.

Walking Without Yeats

Looking behind the wall:

cramped hawthorn,

mess of defaced carrier-bags,

sunken half-empty cans and note:

‘Two bottles today.’

Pox marked earth

along with me

derives no pleasure slouching

nowhere near Byzantium.

Two poems taken from the forthcoming collection Somewhere In Heaven (Red Squirrel Press) http://www.redsquirrelpress.com