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Signposts

Christopher Barnes, UK

He peacock
-pecked my cheek
eyeing a cluck
-red pinhole
and an unmistakably identifiable mole.

All through-roads lead
... to dementia.

Finally,
all we see are roundabouts
and us.

I flick through the past,
you through semi-consciousness;
the speech
-song of water
drums your cheek.

At 7 you think
you remember
kissing
a young boy’s mole
and dancing at dancehalls
to Northern Soul.

All through-roads lead
...to dementia.

All traffic must crawl
through a pinhole.

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