A Failed Prediction 

There always seemed a brightened,
yet greying hue to this room,
as your feet danced in a much
more sturdy rhythm than mine,
the bricked-up fireplace having
an easier time breathing than me.

As we clumsily entwine here,
we are blissfully distanced
from changes that are well
overdue, and which time 
had far more dictation over
than we ever could.

Now only the chores and broken 
bookshelves remain; the contents 
of the draws and cupboards 
unrecognisable, and after 
just a two-day absence, 
we now become separated shadows.

The Hotel

I attempt to track a pulse 

from these walls, the assumption

that history is productive enough

(or mischievous) to leave a mark,

if only for the sake of confusion. 

I count the screws missing 

from each door hinge, to help 

juggle time until contentment

and the weak aura developed 

by my presence in unknown places

are delivered via a reluctant room service.

A finger dragged through dust

creates a runway, wide enough

to hide the yet to be cleaned towels

and shadows cast from bad bedside

lamps, and still leave space for

flattened pillows, which constantly 

threaten to withdraw rest.

The reception bar, almost static

with service, and  the glasses stained

just enough to prevent unnecessary

consumption. The carpets slowly

expose past footprints of grease,

to ensure I remain for at least another

night at least. 

Second Home

The same cramped room,
which created a shell around
this lack of warmth, 

a second home where the elders
were in celebration of everything
but ourselves.

The pencil marks on the wall
as you tracked our height, 
which formed like a rusted ladder,
still remain etched well into my 30’s;
my bones now stretched twice the size. 

In that armchair, a less than elegant
throne; you ensured this shelter
never would never crack, as we are finally
sent home, our usual refuge,
which at least for the next few days,
will seem slightly incomplete.

Jonathan Butcher has had poems appear in various print and online publications, including The Morning Star, Mad Swirl, Drunk Monkeys, Unlikely Stories Mark V, The Abyss, and others. His fourth chapbook, Turpentine, was published by Alien Buddha Press. He is also the editor of online poetry journal Fixator Press.