Somewhere Between. 

*For John Dorsey. 

The dusk and the blanket of night, 

the temptation and trepidation, 

the aromatic handful of fries  

and the grease stained takeaway carton,

the ageing and the attrition, 

the nostalgia and the cautious optimism – 

we write, 

because it’s either that, or go crazy.

The BB Gun War of 2004. 

The greatest shot 

of the BB gun war 

of 2004 – 

was a complete fluke. 

One that at I’d FIRED 

from the top of the stairs,

at my brother who 

was hiding

under my dad’s chair 

reloading,

in the kitchen 

as our old man 

ate leftover lasagne. 

It sailed through 

the air and tiny square on 

the back of the chair 

to pierce flesh. 

Nobody appreciating 

the chances. 

of the shot connecting 

even if I’d tried, 

especially not my dad,

who’d just been shot 

straight in the arse.

A Memory of Basque Summer Rain. 

Sat at the desk, listening to thunder, 

drinking cheap wine – 

once again, I was the boy that nobody 

owned and I was alone in every sense 

that evening.

Through the window – 

a lightning bolt hit the ground and 

illuminated the tops of the palm trees – 

another storm having rolled in off 

The Bay of Biscay. 

The swing windows tapped against the wall, 

the stiff latch mysteriously undoing itself 

once again that evening – 

which only added to the strange series 

of events that had unfolded in that flat. 

I continued to sit there, waiting on both 

something and nothing, 

swearing that the lightning bolts outside 

were inching ever closer – 

certain that change was coming with them.

Why I Took Down The Dreamcatcher.   

I no longer dream about 

the one who got away, 

or the sinking mud that I’d fall into alone 

in that beautiful forest – 

where I’d eventually go down in awe, 

staring up at a cloudless sky. 

Yet, I see now that those dreams 

were the ones that I truly felt alive – 

with everything else 

feeling like a night shift where life 

passes idly by. 

Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician. He lives in his home town of Bristol, England, but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. His second poetry collection The P45 Power Ballad is available from Yellow King Press and his nineteenth chapbook of poetry Until The Autumnal Sundown is forthcoming from Two Key Customs. Some of his poetry has been archived by The National Poetry Library in the UK. He is part English, part Welsh and part wolf. IG: @gwiljamesthomas.