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
in,
out,
we loved
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.
Demimonde,
in the mirror nothing was real,
age looked upon youth and youth upon age as fantastic
as those songs on vinyl discs
I recollect
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.