excuse me my crumbs are damp

DAMP
(UK)

The streets are

The signs are

The pavement is

The crowds walk through it

The sky replenishes it

The buses wheel over it

The spaces green grand and grungy are

The mizzle makes it more

The kaleidoscopic greys across the sky and the sea

Reflect it

The houses outside and sometimes in are

The hanging baskets bloomin' well are

The towns of rich and poor are

The time telling us to drink more beer is

The chips showered in vinegar are

Damp

Damp in the walls

excuse me my crumbs are dusty

DUST
(AUSTRALIA)

The streets are

The signs are

The pavement is

The people walk through it

The sky looks over it

The bicycle wheels over it

The space that needs to be filled

The emptiness of the streets

The dryness of the air

The size of the sky

The flatness of the buildings

The paintings on the walls

The communities that need building

The time that ticks slowly

The edges of a country filled with and surrounded by

Dust

Excuse me my crumbs are troubled

There is that moment 

When you're writing an essay

And you haven't recorded the source of the quote

That you just must use

You scramble through your notes

Rifle through printed journal articles

Search endlessly online

And end up inexplicably with 

A cat meme explaining

Judith Butler...

Excuse me my crumbs are troubled

Excuse me there are crumbs in my Jumble

JUMBLE

  ‘Get ready girls. Get ready. I’m letting them in.’ Miss Caruthers unbolts the door and nimbly hops to one side, her netball skirt twitching upwards. The pit head looms silent and still in the morning mist beyond the waiting crowd.
   The sheer force of the stampeding bargain hunters, who have been waiting at the church hall doors since seven am to be let in, jolts the trestle tables out of the uniform u shape into crooked angles. The new configuration appearing like broken teeth at the end of a fight. The stall holders groan and push against their tables to avoid being wedged against walls by the hoards pressing in on them.

 ‘Twenty pence a toffee cake, only twenty pence.’  The chorus of girl guides voices from the kitchen is lost in the hum of activity.

Twenty Pence

This is an excerpt from the collection Thirteen Hundred Crumbs
if you'd like to read more contact justinesless@yahoo.com