Northwords Now Issue 34

The FREE literary magazine of the North


by Karin Slater

The half three plane's left
for a mainland city,
while God plays islanders
like puppets in wet hands.

If I was in the city
I'd meet friends at Donald Dewar,
have an early dinner,
walk without an umbrella

trance through GoMA
and watch lovers kiss
on Buchanan Street
in the rain.

His hands on her waist,
her hands on his face,
a right angle
a heeled red shoe.

And public affection
is present and far-off
from home's notice of a death
typed in shop windows.

AGED 81.
And everybody knows.