This poem was published in the UOS Creative Writing anthology yearbook. It also appeared in an exhibition titled Poetry in Windows at the 2019 BIG LIT festival at Gatehouse on Fleet
Nicked, frae below a strummin street licht,
The muckle great bin schrinks low to the grund.
Flashes of blue and orange snap
on its rusty armour. Half foo
it rumbles tae the fit o Randolf crescent where
the pavement sinks beneath brae, bumpin
ower boulders ,beer cans and deed bracken. Joyriding.
It flips its lid to the moon.
And the moon slides behind a bramble
Bush, and the bush slips behind a tree that
sucks air from the shadows . Released.
Skirting the embankment, teeterin. Then nose-diving heed first,
puking a cocktails o last week’s cardboard shite
into the Bannock burn. Branded confetti drookit,
Dance around the plastic shell celebrating
a liquid grave.
©Eilidh G Clark