by Jennie Gilling (inspired by Tom Lomax’s exhibition: A Week of Angels)
I am guardian of the underpass,
dark alley, empty car park:
this is my hood, among the desperate.
Some can’t turn back,
but a few are still enough to hear my
‘why?’ or ‘you can choose’.
As I skateboard through the subway
music flutes through my wings –
it’s a wave length
that gently disturbs the aerosol
the boy sprays on the concrete.
My feathers catch some neon yellow
as I dive through the zigzag of his signature.
© Jennie Gilling
