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Space, he needed more
space. On The Waterfront,
Marlon Brando and the pigeons
have haunted him all his life.
He settled for a loft conversion;

apex lines he gazes up into,
giant upside-down ticks or
that symbol for inserting words
when something is missing.
He painted everything white.

Below, bath-time terrors,
a sink full of crusted dishes,
damp laundry congealing
in a basket. He takes himself
up there most nights,

raises the ladder, sits
in front of his screen saver;
24 inches of blood red rust into which
he downloads a thumbnail
of two white doves. Digitally

he masters their flight, watches
slow-motion wings billow
through crimson grit, flutter to the edge
of the screen, fly off


Fiona Lesley Bennett lives and works in the UK where she is Artistic Director of The Map Consortium ─ a company of artists designing and delivering creative interventions. She is currently working on a survey into “poem as friend” for Wise Words Festival Canterbury.

© 2012, Fiona Lesley Bennett

One comment on “Up There, by Fiona Lesley Bennett

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