Bolton Deer
Flat caps and shoes, thick ankles,
Collared with socks.
At the daytime disco of the precinct,
They sat on chairs, with buttons and wheels.
No nimble Lowry’s here, but dancers, yet.
The next morning,
After the sky was pink,
In the fourth year of my course,
From the window of the
Holiday Inn…
I saw a deer.
Running and running
With rain on its face,
Until it reached the sea,
And swam to the other side.
That night, I dreamt the deer was next to me,
Kissing, then kissing and cupping, my face.
Cupping my face.I felt his breath which smelled like straw,
He seemed to be telling me,
It’ll be alright… it’ll be alright..
Later, in the caves in Altamira,
There, among the ancients –
Its fine architecture, rendered with sharp-stone –
I saw the deer.
I also saw where we had sat, and talked.
In summer light with tea, cake…
And all was good.
All was good.
NB. It is known that, sometimes, wild deer are seen in Bolton town centre.