Vintage, a poem by Vona Groarke
Between trains, I kill an hour
with 70s ceramic coffee pots
and Scott Walker LPs
while Doris Day, in clip-on earrings,
is innocent, on a loop.
I try on buttoned evening gloves
and plunge my hand in mink.
When did I start sleeping with the light on?
Out on the headland, from the train, a boat full of rain.
Vona Groarke’s Selected Poems was recently published by Gallery Press