London
night glows with empty light
a full moon
through reeds of lampposts
at St Martin in the Fields
the crex crex
of a thumbnail stroking a comb
we share the streets
with crows dotting roadkill
diagnostic foxes
coming home past dawn
we peel the shadow
from our heels and rise
Virtual Machines
The office is a chatterbox,
an open plan disaster
from the time when we
worked together.
These days (IRL)
we ride a carousel
of back to back calls,
tethered to headsets,
talking to everyone
except those near us,
forgiving ourselves
the convenience
of working from home,
unbuttoned, whiskered,
speaking to empty rooms,
and untouched
unless someone
forgets to mute:
a riddle of piss,
birdsong through a window.
Ian Dudley has published poems in various magazines, and was a 2014 Jerwood/Arvon poetry mentee. He is featured in Eyewear’s The Best New British And Irish Poets 2016.
More work by Ian Dudley
Tel: 028 7126 6946
Email: hueditor@theverbal.co
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