Erin Beckett Poet Rhyme

For October

Echoes 

off tenement windows,

sound mixed 

with fluttering glimpses 

of fake hanging ghosts.



Air smells of October. 



Perhaps 

we’re only just 

remembering, or 

noticing how much 

we usually forget. 



Soon it’ll get colder. 



For a fiver I can get 

some rides on the outer

or inner, more 

tenement windows, 

more music. 



Colder air makes bolder. 



I take a puff 

outside Partick 

station, then go about 

my business 

with a grin.

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