you can almost hear a siren’s distant howl
his cigarette is fresh and will take a while to smoke -
she will stand and wait for an answer
their window is closed against the night air,
noise and car fumes – they prefer their own temperatures
and aromas, half undressed or dressed
her perfume stronger; she wears a black skirt
and bra for heat rather than warmth – the red mask
hooked on the window frame for a perspective
to see through any party masquerade
that has been or is yet to be – while
both sets of eyes are locked together
they see each other with the same expression – question
whether resolution will arrive before dawn
James Bell has published two poetry collections, the just vanished place (2008) and fishing for beginners (2010), both from tall-lighthouse. He lives in Brittany where he contributes articles and photography to an English language journal and continues to publish poems nationally and internationally with recent print appearances in Tears In The Fence, Elbow Room, The Journal, Shearsman, The Stony Thursday Book, Under the Radar and Upstairs at Du Roc.
Night in the City by James Bell
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