One from the notebook for today’s prompt – a day turned upside down. Written one way then falling backwards, grasping onto words to make some sense of it.
Rochdale field notes notebook
Thursday 7th January 2016: Afternoon carrot cake
Afternoon carrot cake, over sweet,
not enough cinnamon for the twin sets and pearls.
Served with a turd of off-white squirty cream,
over-churned and oily. The de rigueur tea break,
complete with the snap from a Lotus Biscoff.
At the canteen: a pot of tea, tiny metal jug –
pool of milk in a saucer, the tidying, the clearance after the flood.
Cheap grand piano with plastic candlestick – the Rochdale Liberace –
can’t be sold to investors, tourists, shoppers.
The mood is all wrong – you can’t sell rain.
There’s nothing photogenic about this weather;
no tourist, nor town planner, would want it
as photographic backdrop. That moribund meteorology.
The day is muted, all greys, green, dun red,
after those brown floods,
I wonder how changed the Dale will be.
Between Leeds and Bradford Interchange,
that ‘nothing’ smell on the Northern train.
Vowels and consonants, a lexical oscillation,
the constant noise of words jostling
when translating signs. Waiting. The rainspotted windows.