Skip to content

Fill me in

Dear Edinburgh,
I will write you no poems to tell you how alarming familiarity is.
No ways to tell about corner shops, castles, print piles guttering.

Don’t ring on Sundays to have supermarket conversations.
I am lying on the carpet of your brain watching flies do plays.
Don’t ring to say you’re  ____________________
Just be here, wearing all your expressions,
refuse to cue with sudden gentle rain to mark the place where critics ____________________

O Edinburgh, you tough aunt, ambition ATM, torrid auditorium, let me tell you ____________________

Here, download my brain tape – your sky is ____________________
your sky is old lace over a lamp.
You in a taxi of tartan blankets your face a _____________________ tipped to the night,
you in a collar of sodium, days of brown-white light.

Your currency is concrete, let me lay you sideways, let me resurface  ____________________ Teach me how to let go of ____________________
how to record the formal feeling of ____________________
How to tell when ____________________ is ____________________
Today is not a day to ____________________ outside is ____________________ an outro of ____________________

Today is a ____________________ for ___________________
My face does expressions because every day I find it a miracle that I am ____________________ in this ____________________ of ____________________

With blank admiration

Yours ____________________