New poem
Delvaux Nocturne
Night falls, trams halt,
the points’ clatter sleeps;
the last lamp casts its amber arc
on tar, asphalt
and girls bowling hoops.
Subfusc street scenes,
dark stations sans trains,
fill with sonambulistic dreams:
cool nudes’ white lines
and bare skeletons.
Above flagged squares,
still marshalling yards
and stark arcades of plaster casts
spread wires, fine-drawn
against lilac clouds.
And here’s one of the pictures that partly inspired the poem (my daughter Diana provided the rest!)
