Self-portrait with Windsor chair
Suddenly vacant
its high back cleft
to rib the air
the impress in its seat
carved where
the elm trees grow
bodged amongst its spindles
in Brill and carried to the hills
one snowy day
now it is but for the cat to jump
into the traces and company
itself with what’s no longer there
a passing thought
its moment made of something less
durable than a knock at the door
Julian Brasington
Julian Brasington lives in North Wales.His work has appeared most recently in Ink Sweat & Tears and in Morning Star. Further poems are forthcoming in Stand.
About This Poem
Laced with autobiography, this poem draws upon the craft of bodging. It made itself heard when out walking through woods one evening and thinking about Dust, portraits, and transience.
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