Here is a poem that slowly formed around the idea that memories could be removed from a building when it is refurbished. The poem slowly formed over a week or so.
before the house sale was agreed
buyers demanded the ghosts be removed
so contractors were appointed, a date set
an amount shaved off the price
and the workers arrived to divest the property
loading reluctant spectres into sealed skips
then driving them away to wherever unwanted memories languish
that ambushing taste on the tongue
a face half glimpsed in the crowd
the 4am telephone that rings and rings and rings
The last line of a poem can, when you have read it, make you reconsider the whole poem. This is what I wanted to achieve with this poem. I wanted to recall the feeling of the landline ringing in the night. It happened to me on occasion when I lived moved house. The landline telephone was similar to a delivery company and I would get calls in the night.
Here's Sault with Bitter Streets.
Until next time.