There it stops,
hanging over the waiting stroke
but never falling,
never striking.
Locked between eight and nine
like a cobra undecided.
Undecided!
That lord between if or that,
the law of spite
a varicose lay by.
@ Steven Francis poems 2011
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
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