Derelicts by Robert Nisbet

The town at half-past five this winter’s night
discovers casualties in miniature:
domestic derelicts, odd blokes, parked round
the benches by the pub on Castle Square.
They’re neither crippled, sick, nor really old,
just souls and shoulders hunched against the cold.

And all around the evening’s under way.
The night is various: clerks, waitresses,
late customers, believers in the light,
find point in pavements, dealings in the night.

And these, odd blokes, parked round outside the pub.
Odd gusts of winter bluster down the hill,
probe chilled and fitful memories, find room.
Odd blokes, fags lit against the winter gloom.

Robert Nisbet is a Welsh poet whose work has appeared recently in the USA in San Pedro River Review, Main Street Rag, Third Wednesday, Burningword Literary Journal and many others. He has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.