Member-only story
Mall
Jun 8, 2021
A poem from the city
It’s the new village square
filled with skylight sunlight
the whirrr of coffee machines
the howl of a baby woken
by a loudspeaker
no village crier here
just a muted TV screen up high
the news scrolling in snippets
no communal gardens
just supermarkets where we compare
prices and rosy-skinned apples
from far-off lands
still, the old men gather
at the tables in the corner to
gossip, laugh, swap stories
mothers meet, children play
and some of us sit alone
and write a poem or two.
