Time Gentleman Please : a short fiction as prose

he’d suffered a head injury
in a war that was yet to happen
and channelled that future self
by conversing after last orders
with the spirits
of long dead Irish poets.


At The Seaside in Ladybirdland : a short fiction as prose

the rockpools he’d find
as a child
bore scant resemblance
to the clear troves
of treasure
found by MacMillan’s
girls and boys
on seaside bank holidays
with mum and dad,
pastel painted in
post war prosperity,
his pools were dark
mirrors, shattered
oil patterned shadows
from rusting tankers
which darkened the sand below,
and their bounty was one
of old shandy cans
and filter tips
yet occasionally
a shell would catch his eye
these would serve as a reminder
that one day
he might find a starfish.