Mike Ferguson is an American permanently resident in the UK. His most recent poetry publication is Professions [The Red Ceilings Press, 2018], and a collection of found prose poems is forthcoming with Knives Forks and Spoons Press.
Red Hot Pokers and a Moon Half Way Up the 11am Sky
The art gallery is just beyond – and there are paintings neither of us would know – but when asked, you tell me immediately what those flowers are called. I name it a simple thing. This time of year until the turn of permanent cold. Out of torch lilies and kniphofia, I would go with the first had you not been with me. Shame of a dancing bear prompted. Only one day before had been such a misery, and here we were, for just an hour [maybe], able to see colour. Imagine that world rife with kniphofia crime. Nothing can make you dance, yet you’d feel the extra pain. It was when driving home I saw it hanging in there.