TEMPERANCE
In the infinite evening, they wait
with bated breath for the punch
line. For the sky’s distended
underbelly to open and reply.
In the infinite night, they hear
the lofty thunder of God clearing
his throat, scattering hard rain
amongst the tower blocks.
The dogs are cutting teeth
and the children are howling
for something more than thunder,
for something other than God.
AUGUST
We know it is the last of it
when the morning calls
and the birds keep cool
silence under iron feet.
The moon winks in her
soft science, imploring
something newly
consequential. But you
are busy adjusting your
glasses.
You are waiting
for another train.
Carys Hughes is a 21-year- old writer studying American and Canadian Literature, History and Culture at the University of Nottingham. She began writing poetry 5 years ago after hearing a performance of Frank O’Hara’s ‘For Grace, After a Party’. She is currently working on her first novel.
