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| The Poetry of Nicholas Hancock The Poet of Despair Published by The British Hancock Society with the permission of the author. |
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THE TURNING TERN The sun peers short-sightedly at us, disappears above the angry will of the gull sculling the drizzled air this way and that way, unable to choose a horizon, only gyration, no destination. Upstroke and downstroke pulling it towards nowhere ever closer and closer. The sun’s blind behind a bright curtain of darkness. At the corner of a man waits cold as the pavement under the gull and the weak eye, scans the grey for enemy ordnance, screws his neck deep into weary shoulders. Is it the wind playing with the gull or the gull playing with the wind? A dog hearing children curses their sweet bones, dreaming thin spittle of marrow gulped while children break glass. A tired Vauxhall pauses at the kerb to ingest the screwed neck and icy feet from the corner of The gull has gone.
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