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Mary Ford Neal: a poem

Street magic

I don't believe in magic. But something

hovers along these streets, something

like dust not settling hangs just above

the slippery cobbles, and it's more than

the messy flash of reflected streetlight

and it's more than the colourful spill from some

long gone car, lying now in the gutter

as though someone had pierced a rainbow

and let it fall sighing down to die here

in the dark, by a drain, with the swollen fag-ends

and the dog urine and the spit of the loud lads.

This is something else – our shoes splash through it

whatever it is, and I swear it makes our stepping lighter.

My feet might fly, and any second I might be gone

unless I grab your arm to stop myself

which I never would.

This poem first appeared in Dodging the Rain. Mary Ford Neal is a writer and academic currently based in Glasgow, Scotland. Her poetry is recently published/forthcoming in Ink, Sweat & Tears, perhappened, Capsule Stories, Dust Poetry Magazine, The Winnow, Twist in Time, Ice Floe Press, Marble, and Dodging The Rain, and her debut collection will be published by Indigo Dreams Press in 2021. She tweets about poetry and other things here: @maryfordneal.

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