Party Clothes
by and published in Edition Nine of Pomegranate
This one- white and lilac patterned, with a
network of branches around the torso,
dotted with birds like beads on a necklace…
Draw a line- the wearer- traces
stars across the dance floor- always in transit.
And there: a kaleidoscope of
Camden clamours, punctures the dark
with fibres of infectious colours…
They’re dancing drunk- hung
up on the braids they’ve knitted from the words of others.
Meadow print- there- with soft cotton freshness-
in the slopes of a slouching shirt- their
hands with leather bracelets clutch at one another…
By the bar- or the steps leading to the bar, drinking
J2Os or pints of cider- smiling bemusedly.
Straight cut- the garish grunt of a
neon slogan slapped across a pastel base,
Breaks the outlines- fills ears with its noise…
Hopelessly grinding the girls by the speakers,
Inward sighing- sick of self awareness.
~
Then out of the dust worn wheals of strobe,
A twist of crimson glows
With the padded white- print
of lily groves.
They stop their dance, the
music drags at their heels- they
near the door…
I tell you to part them- you cannot- let them
walk out together- for the look of
the night, for the face of the party.
You report:
‘They planned this,
Together- and laugh. They are
Buttoned at the sleeves and tell me
They cannot part.’
James Coghill
James Coghill has so far managed to come runner up twice in the FYP of the year award (he really does it just for the weird food). Other than poetry, he enjoys wearing top hats and doing Judo (although not all at the same time).