Between Stations
From the 2009 qarrtsiluni chapbook contest finalist Wavelengths, by Dick Jones
Between stations lies
what I call, faute
de mieux, the real world.
Long jawbones of houses,
each exposed like molars,
upturned and particular.
Here, a garden tricycle,
tilted onto a bony shoulder.
Fallen or pushed? And there,
beanrows and water features,
gouts of flowers like
spilled butter and blood.
And someone sleeping,
pinned to a blanket
like a specimen whilst
a girl in green
at an open window
waves a ‘phone, yelling,
frozen, voiceless, like
a gargoyle. All so clear
then immolated at
a track’s turning. This
is how our lives
walk and talk, coughing
syllables heard by no one,
throwing shapes that
are black against obsidian.
Dick Jones, a musician and recently retired drama teacher, has been writing seriously for the past 20 years. His poems and short stories have been published in a wide range of magazines, both on- and offline.
qarrtsiluni 
Wonderful poem, wonderfully read.
How well I remember my first train ride out of London and seeing those backyards, with the same emotional tone you’ve captured here, Dick, in both the words and the reading. This remains a favorite poem of mine. Thank you.
Yes.
Wonderfully descriptive piece, Dick. Brilliantly read. Bravo.
Many thanks, everyone. Much appreciated. I shall post more podcasts with poems published on the blog.