Gerard Fanning

Five poems

After a Short Illness

Bare chested, fresh out of pomade,
he lies with a beat-up paperback
propped for the benefit of shade.

Lothario of seltzer, tight with the riot squad,
he remembers the Margate Lido,
art deco on the Bray esplanade.

Dozing in a cloud of powder and snuff,
he dreams where red brick stores
and gives back heat like a risen loaf.

For a brief lunch hour he can waive,
pay check, bus pass, toothbrush
waiting in its cup, the grave.

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