Brenton Booth- Three Poems

WHEN THE CITY SLEEPS

Watching the walls cave in

after midnight;

the murder silent,

the way asleep,

the whole city invisible,

and nothing to worry about:

all the lights on in my apartment—

and anything now possible.

DIE TO LIVE

I’ll never write the great poem

or have the perfect blonde

or own a silver sports car

or live in a large house,

but those things don’t really

matter;

they are just the invisible

chains

handed down to us,

and people give up whole

lives

trying to achieve them—

not realising they are killing

themselves in the process,

I think in my small summer

apartment in Sydney at 11:10pm

on a Wednesday

a portable fan cooling the room

and two days off work,

which I know is not much:

But what is?

IN THE RAIN

Waiting

on

the

walls

to

collapse

&

the

tenor

cockroach

to

sing

Ava Maria

on

a

cloudy

Monday

night

in

Sydney—

the

fruit

bats

screaming

in

the

tree

by

my

window

&

rain

pounding

against

the

roof

on

this

cold

night,

that

was

meant

to

be

summer.

Bio: Brenton Booth is a writer living in Sydney, Australia.