Explosions of colour
In the monochromacity
Of the modern art room
At the Tate Britain
I sit and stare
As Titian hair atop
A riot of pink and green
Flounces past a
Barbara Hepworth
Pausing only to consider
Her own reflection
In a Modigliani
The shallow curves
Of a polished surface
Echo the movement
Of our livelier exhibits


Two lovely black eyes

A quiet desperation
I see within your eyes
Lit without frustration
Scream volumes with your sighs.
Things haven’t gone your way love
That’s plain enough to see.
I know just how you feel, as life
Has done the same to me.