Chris Hopkins: a poem



Gull poem

Oh happy gull,

your call & echo yours alone.

Grey day angel,

papered streets

silvered in your

piss-ghost likeness.

Made of winter's

light, you are the wind-caught, maggot-gutted kite;

the night sky drifter. You are

the cloud king, the selfish bird of prayer,

phoenix of hated things.



Chris Hopkins is a Welsh writer living in the Canterbury area. He has had poems published in The Honest Ulsterman, The New European, Morning Star, 14 Magazine (Vanguard Readings), Rust + Moth and has work forthcoming in Reliquiae Journal.