Two Poems
Tom Paulin, 6 September 1984
“... Waftage: An Irregular Ode All my mates were out of town that lunk July and though we shared a bed still it was over – she’d paid the rent till August first so each bum hour those rooms threw back at me this boxed-up, gummy warmth like a pollack’s head and eye wedged in an ironstone wall. Most every day she’d paint in the loft above the stables while I wandered right through le Carré – Murder of Quality was where I started ... ”