A Year's Worth Of Postcards From London

J.E.A. Wallace

King’s Cross, The 20th of March

I still get a little excited
When a train pulls out the station
And we enter a beautiful limbo
Between departure and arrival

I still look for the colourful litter
Adorning the tangled embankments
Doing its best, just like the rest
Of London to emerge

And shine beneath a springtime
Whose chilly cheerfulness
Is best observed from a train window
Between departure and arrival

 

Greenwich, The 21st of June

We could tie the sun to a stick
By the side of this empty road
Put our backs against the trees
To watch the green grass grow

And that dirty forgotten bottle
By the side of this empty road
I think is missing its ship
We should wait for it to show

Before we go anywhere…

 

Chiswick, The 22nd of September

When summer’s fallen asleep in the sky
And just lies there…

These giant albino mammoths
(Very slowly) crash the party
Dragging winter behind them
Like a sunburnt dehydrated cowboy

Underneath
Leaves run around on the pavement
Like cats at an old lady millionaire’s house
And (finally)
The colours in this dirty old town look right

At night
The rain quietens the car alarms
And turns windows into percussion

Music to the ears
Of all the sunburnt dehydrated cowboys

 

Balham, The 21st of December

Outside
Icing sugar snow is falling
On a town that needs a little sweetening

The final touch
From the grey clouds’ ancient fingers

The final touch?
This home of exhaust and invisible men?
I was under the impression there was further to go…

And then I realise

Throw a snowball in this town
And you’ll hit your destiny.


About the Author

J.E.A. Wallace is a poet whose work has been published in the U.S. and the U.K., including The Minetta Review, The Write Place At The Write Time, and Lowestoft Chronicle. He used to be a Londoner but now lives in a tiny studio apartment in New York with his wife and the occasional mouse.