Far away

By Mickey Finn

You are far away,

and somewhere, the birds sit

on pylon cables, swaying in breezes

that do not kiss me. the sun ends a day

of burning somewhere and begins

a day of burning someplace else.

people cry as one pair of lungs

inhale their last width of a sweet world.

a tree falls and maybe there is some

forsaken soul around to hear it. mercifully,

adrenaline tells a victim that everything will be fine.

there’s a bucket of used soapy water

swilling the vestibule step of a weary house

built one hundred years ago, where a

woman, who is too tired to complain,

lives forever wondering if it is too soon

to smoke another.

and You are far away.

---

Mickey Finn is a working class poet, born, raised, and living in liverpool, uk. having written for half his life, his poetry has been ready hundreds of thousands of times the world over, and quoted in places such as london tube stations. his debut collection, golden, has sold copies across the globe.