Snow On Tottenham Court Road


2. Love, Finally


They said it would come charging like a

Stampede of elephants, the immersive shock of a

Freezing water baptism or any Disney cliché –

The glass slipper that fits, a sudden realisation

Bounding into your heart before the clock strikes twelve.

Well, more like Nan’s slippers shuffling

Dolefully over a static carpet, or the creeping absorption

Of warm tea into the tendons of her ginger snap,

Soaking comfort.


It’s the grainy dregs of your morning coffee,

A sudden taste of something bitter but pure after

Lapping up milky sugary fables. The humdrum

Interrupted. A twitch. A switch. Bewitched.

It doesn’t come shaking dramatically on the Richter Scale –

No, it’s the millimeter shift of tectonic plates

Enough to rip continents apart.

On this new terrain, like finches we adapt:

Slowly, over time, into a new shape.


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