Corners
Sharp concrete corners probe the subconscious,
Subjecting the mind to a dull grey,
Everything running in straight lines that stop,
Jut out, and attack any eye that dares to
Seek out curvaceous figures.
♞♜♝
Square bodies in a rectangular box
Pace to the end of space
Then turn to face another point
That pokes out like a finger of accusation.
We are condemned to walk around the outside of life.
⏩ Frankie Quinn is a former republican prisoner who is now a community activist. He is the author of Open Gates, a book of poetry.
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