Home......Poetry......Short Stories......Art......Reviews......Articles......Contributors


Kathleen Kenny

After four pints of Scrumpy
in the North Terrace
Brian tells me his room in the Annexe
is haunted by colourful ghosts.

From then on I listen for footsteps
in the passage, look for a spectacle
in scarlet, parrot-green,
kingfisher, maroon, tangerine.

But how am I to know
what sounds ghosts make:
interpret meanings malicious or benign,
intentions vague as men’s?

On the way back late that night
silver lights damp my hair, lemonade rain
fizzes off  my gabardine, a shandy-black
covering for the ladders I am laced with.


The content on ospreyjournal.co.uk is copyright 2008 by osprey journal and individual contributors, and may not be reprinted or retransmitted in whole or in part without express written consent.