2 poems by Roy Marshall


Baby Grand


When we met in the restaurant

you were wearing a sharp suit and glossy shoes


and your voice sounded so unlike

the one I knew


that I couldn’t help but think of the piano

by the south-facing window


where, before you came in, I lifted the lid

to pick out a tune


after the waitress had smiled her consent,

its feet on dainty casters, its lacquered sheen


and steel strung bed

bathed in record-breaking summer heat


that warped each note

a fraction off key, so it wavered


almost imperceptibly, enough

to reveal the distance


between where it was

and where it should be. 



Sonnet


A week

after you left,


and in the shower

this ringlet,


kiss-curl,

satin wisp,


this sleek

strand,


silk thread,

filament,


this sprung

spring, lost


link, final

twist.


_____________


Roy Marshall’s books are The Sun Bathers (2013), The Great Animator (2017)

and After Montale (2019), all from Shoestring Press. An ex-nurse and sometime lecturer in creative writing, Roy lives just outside Leicester where he walks the dog at least once a day, every day of the year.