States of Poetry - Poems
'At Table' by Chris Wallace-Crabbe
by Chris Wallace-Crabbe •
In memory of Graham Little
I scribble in cafes, which inspire
The forms in which I’m able:
Although invited, I‘ve declined
A pizza at that table
The forms in which I’m able:
Although invited, I‘ve declined
A pizza at that table
For here my good friend slumped, and died
On the inert terrazzo.
I sit across the room, turning
Perhaps a little pazzo,
On the inert terrazzo.
I sit across the room, turning
Perhaps a little pazzo,
Having been eastward yesterday
To a further funeral
In a verdure suburb; yet
I hardly knew at all
To a further funeral
In a verdure suburb; yet
I hardly knew at all
What people do, who live out there,
Whether they’re all alive.
Well, back I stay, to write in some
Benignly urban dive.
Whether they’re all alive.
Well, back I stay, to write in some
Benignly urban dive.
Chris Wallace-Crabbe
