Manchester Airport by Michael Peverett

Peverett

someone I knew

drew in her nest breath

 

by fiber repose

 

beyond the full December hotel

like a covered annexe

through the empty airport

 

inter lube steel

 

gull

 

viaduct travellators,

under its engineered roof

slung bottle-bin

 

night-lit, nearly empty,  clear my head

 

of its hall of trolleys

 

 

 

I took a snowy breath; I paused

 

and glanced out to the terminals;

 

taxi-ing craft, becalmed so late;

 

upward, as if to a belfry:

 

the southern night sky

and its distance; a pucker of the folds:

vegetation, fire, or birds?

 

something happened to dismay us

 

 

 

 

you looked via cool

                mile-long ringway return

boy

body disembarked onto

castle shelves

 

came ads for greenspace

               back-lit caffeine hit

 

New Scientist rail and a rhythm of taxi phones

               Swissair: continuous, background resonance

see you again

   of something.

Mile of ring-pull warmth

 

gull of the hood jogging breeze

a shoe-in scarf

 

cabin-crew heels, claret lipstick

      if you switched to E-lites

 

panes flashed as I passed:

             the constant chuckle in the vents

 

you touching me drunk

 

          faster by the glass, postcard

serving Broughton Cliff, Kersal Moor

 

pick up my beat and flail with the spirit of seventy fire

           flare

           like one in sunshot tins beside a deck

Tulane Wilaayat has shooting boots

it’s yesterday once more

you’re thirsty and hungry

you’re shrivelled

oh! cheerleader

and pip sliding

on a box of wings

 

as if to the tune of

“Bats in the Belfry”

lowered to execute

the tiers in old hall

 

 

I lay and smoked… around me, the night thickened.

 

in the lake mist, in a clearing

 

the spiral of a buzzard

 

spread fan, wisp of a dawn fire,

 

as if the momentum of the ringway

 

drew up into the dark

 

a pilgrim’s spiral

 

I rested in the hugeness of triliphons

 

celestial board-meetings

 

flecked wingbeats

 

 

Is it summer, mamma?

..

..

Michael Peverett is an IT engineer who lives in Swindon. He writes about modern poetry in Intercapillary Space
http://intercapillaryspace.blogspot.co.uk 
http://michaelpeverett.blogspot.co.uk
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