Samuel W. James
Above the Tobacconist
White blinds, defined by dark mould spots in the corners,
ran back and forth on hollow wire insulator. Selby
town centre, where he moved after the divorce,
above the tobacconist, in his second-storey flat; I woke
to see dawn set to work, followed by the early risers.
The pet-food factory by the bridge, we passed it
on entering and leaving the town, and I guessed
it must be where these weekend workers were going.
When the wind blew a certain way, I could smell it
in summer through the window, like off milk and vinegar,
as I watched the cobbled carpark around which the centre
was built, noting the characters who came into the dingy
early opening shop; the faint ring of the bell below.