top of page
  • Alan Kissane

Sing a song

By Alan Kissane

Sing a song -

a dead mouse

found beneath her dress.

Four and twenty scratches

decorate the mess

in the hall,

spilled like sweet morning

coffee without milk

or sunlight. She didn’t

scream. She just laughed

as intelligent people do

to those they pity. To have

all the walls

anyone could ever need

is a dream I’ve often had

since the silence rattled

the poison from the tail. I’ve tried

to live

as quietly as a footstep

in the sand

ever since the knotwood trains stopped

drifting to my home town. I want

to believe they need me

more than I need them.

She’ll never return

like the mouse

and I’ll never return

just like the pity. Perhaps

I was right about the trains after all.


Alan Kissane works as a teacher of English in the Midlands, UK. His poetry has appeared in print and online at Allegro, Culture Matters, Dissonance Magazine, Dreich, Dust Poetry, Emerge Literary Journal, Epoch, Fahmidan, iamb, Kindling, and Neologism, amongst others. He is currently editing his first chapbook entitled ‘She Took The Children Now We Wait’.


bottom of page