Steal away

 

There's a room of transition

at the slightly shabby end

of a branch line

closed years ago,

where you are visited

by an embarrassment

of sins of the heart.

 

They are persistent,

those old adolescent

crimes of meanness,

the seeing another's individuality

or hunger as a shadow

that became a lead ingot

in your ageing pocket.

 

Still they bring you

the small presents

that diminish you,

they know no other way

but the way

of the mirror

of the act.

 

There's sometimes

no need of forgiveness,

as when you pay the bill

discreetly in a restaurant

and turn away,

that is, if ever

you have the wherewithal.

 

 From ‘An Elusive State – Entering al-Chwm’, 

 Cinnamon Press, 2008

 

                                                                                                                    ©  Steve Griffiths 2008