Bottle the colour, label it with a clinical name. Line them up in hallway cupboards.. Dusty second floor cranny, third floor nook. Stuffed in the space beneath the stairs with the hoover and other things suffused with this colour. Sleep and wake at 3:00am, and imagine those bottles in their lost and hollow places, rattling in the night.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
Night Rattles
Imagine a colour, the shade of a silvery - grey, a fish scale sheen. The colour tastes of being twenty years old, living in a town where friends have moved on. Streets haunted by rooms you once knew intimately. Old homes inhabited by strangers. It is a colour of a certain kind of winter, when you go to the train station in a town you've been meaning to leave for, well, years, and finding that there are no trains any more, and the station is being boarded. The colour of realising that a time that seemed only recent is now years ago.
