A light, halved in pylon: dusk.

The meter hums a warning sign.

Fenced wasteland in brittle


Peels of paint, the

Breaking thin

Green and orange

Shedding skin

of a railway bridge.

Missing signs;




(ghost towns) .

The touch of absent hands.


About Ian O'Brien

I am a teacher and scribbler, living in Manchester, UK.
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1 Response to Untitled

  1. ginowan777 says:

    Never knew my grand folks as they died at the end of WW II just after I was born, but after losing my folks I share your loss.

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