DEATH OF A BAR

 

Barcelona 2012

 

The warmth has gone,

the boar's head taken down

all fireplace brick surrendered

to the sledgehammer,

 

that old woman who

punished fruit machines

denied her homebound pleasure,

the jaunty evening crowd

now scattered like funeral ash.

 

The barmaid with her optimistic hair

left stranded, the perrenial

inviting smile subdued by silence.

I'd like to ask what you make

of all this murder -

 

what led them to decide

that these cold grey walls were

somehow more appropriate

than the pulse of life.

 

 

Published in The Blue Nib, number 36, December 2018