With a torch
He could have signalled out to sea
An SOS, a wrecker’s trick
A flattened hand against the lamp,
He might have seen inside himself
As children do
He would have finger-painted
Scarecrow silhouettes
Until the sun seeped through the blinds
Until the shadows turned
From black to grey to white
Idris Pavieu is a 40-something faceless local government bureaucrat who occasionally grubs out a poem. Reviews include:
Wife: ‘It’s ok I suppose’
Kids: ‘We don’t get it’
Idris has had poems published in The Delinquent Issues 11 & 17