Noir

        there was always a cat, never there long enough  
to have a name and because of that
the more admired

there was always a woman, in a fix
through no fault of her own balling her fists
like the closeup
of street vendors pulping lemons

there was another woman, who kept a secret

there was an ancient servant, who burned the letters

there was always a closed coffin, and against
the window, anthropomorphic rain there was always
an insect, trapped in pine sap
a million centuries from the closing credits

there was the day and there was not the day

there was a season called night and another season
we had heard about, out of context
for our characters there were solemn curfews, there was
a disturbance in space-time

there were seething maggots, apt as metaphor
for the principal role miscast

there was a fish, camouflaged as a fish there was always
a silhouette behind the curtain there were other
examples, illusions
of immortality I may have misremembered
Image of Estill Pollack, Poet
Estill Pollock
Issue 75 Featured Writer

Estill Pollock was born in Kentucky, but has lived in England for many years. Between 2005-2011 the book cycle Relic Environments Trilogy was published by Cinnamon Press (Wales). A collaboration with Broadstone Books in Kentucky provided the impetus for his recent poetry series, Cartographic Projections of a Sphere.’

Scroll to Top