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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Towards the Inner Station

after Joseph Conrad

By: Ian C. Webb

The King of Belgium stroked his sepia beard, with

a spin of the globe, found a gap on the map, and

money that grows in the trunks of trees, awaiting the turn

of the bicycle wheel. Léopold’s Ville. Along

the length of the kerbside, through drizzle and dusk, gust

the wax of thousands of pieces of light, and the pale,

brown hues of flaccid bouquets, beneath the curves

of the Boulevard’s ‘Style Congolese’. The feverish

Mr. Marlow had stumbled through Straat and Laan

and Rue, had sneered at the frock-coated lining of pockets,

the city’s assurance of “perfect safety”. Walking

for miles for fear of the Metro, our shot nerves cling

to the trails of boots and beret, are soothed by the twitchy,

umber-gloved, tap on the semi-auto’s safety-catch.


Ian C. Webb lives in Bath Spa, England. A founder member of Poet's Voice at the Bath Royal Literary and Scientific Institution, he has had work published by Poetry Salzburg Review, the French Literary Review, BRSLI, Snakeskin and The Charles Carter.


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