Night, made yellow by
sodium lights arrayed at road edge
car headlights picking out trees
all the houses spread on Reading’s skirts.
Sitting at the back, seatbeltless
I would stare into windows as we passed
peer at other lives being lived
as if through a series
of sequential flash-dramas
enacted in deep silence.
Wonder at their variety
ache to be part of them.
Kim Whysall-Hammond has worked in Climate Research and then in Telecommunications. Her poetry has been published by Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Alchemy Spoon, Total Eclipse, London Grip, Crannóg and others. She is currently working on that difficult first chapbook – when she isn’t dancing to Billy Nomates.