Short Fiver Poems

Fiver

Echoes 

off tenement windows,

sound mixed 

with fluttering glimpses 

of fake hanging ghosts.



Perhaps 

we’re only just 

remembering, or 

noticing how much 

we usually forget. 



For a fiver I can get 

some rides on the outer

or inner, more 

tenement windows, 

more music. 



I take a puff 

outside Partick 

station, then go about 

my business 

with a grin.