The Next Morning
I remember not noticing the sound of a car alarm,
or the way the girl in the scarf dawdled at the crossing;
the patience of the baby at the bus stop,
the furrowed brow of its young mum.
I didn’t notice the smell of tarmac,
the takeaway wrappers,
the sun hinting at itself behind clouds.
The way the headline read
‘Twenty years to halt superbug apocalypse’;
the way the tram stopped at a bend.
The hiss of the doors, the wind,
the way it was colder.
The freeze-thaw of my mind
worrying the letters of your name.
This poem was Commended in the FRP Competition 2014/5
Joe lives in Sheffield and works as a teacher. Joe’s poems have appeared in various places, including The Rialto, The North and The New Writer. Joe is currently studying part-time for an MA in Creative Writing at Sheffield University.