SPLEEN

Grey the sky and grey the day
leaden bleeding out along
its edges into this thick
and fevered cauldron   tonight

of all nights all the same
in this city playing with
itself   this is the very
cynosure the giddy pit

an omphalos of gaudy
musics and of bright shadow
one among many places
Blackpool   Kavos   Magaluf

all beating against the dark
with wings thin as a skin graft
covering our opened wounds
a ministry of sound

beats the tattoo   the winner
takes it all as a snare drum
catches at our heels and holds
us fast until the morning comes