By Carol Stewart
We coupled between the tracks,
the clacking of tongues on juniper palates,
the crackle of new romance-
brushed neon tides in hushed rebellion, rolling
our made-up reflection,
our escape from the townscape breathing
ghosts round a disused chimney stack,
birds over concrete squall,
a break-line circle, back-slant
black cutlass wings;
moths in a downpour, we stood to admire the shimmer.
in the mirror nothing was real,
age looked upon youth and youth upon age as fantastic
as those songs on vinyl discs
their dividing silence.
About Carol Stewart
Carol Stewart is a mother and grandmother living in the Scottish Borders. A former freelance editor, her poems have recently been published (or are forthcoming) in a number of journals including Abstract Contemporary Expressions, That (Literary Review), Gravitas, Panoply, Coffin Bell, Buddy, and The Beautiful Cadaver Project.