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.