Saturday 5 May 2018

1 Poem by David Subacchi


Tonight we open windows,
 Listen to the church clock
 A mile away.

 These late moments
 Of stillness
 Are summer’s leftovers.

 Soon it will be cold
 And winter will slam
 The glass shut,

  Wind will whistle
 Through cracks
 Disturbing curtains

  And rain will wash
 Moss from rooftops
 Clogging gutters.

  But for now
 The cat's call
 And the purr of tyres,

  The ticking engines
 Of unloading taxis
 With whispered farewells,

  The laboured breath
 Of a slumbering town,
 The gentle helicopter snore.


David Subacchi lives in Wales where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University
of Liverpool and he has 4 published collections of his English Language poetry First Cut (2012),
Hiding in Shadows (2014), Not Really a Stranger (2016) and A Terrible Beauty (2016).
He also writes in Welsh and Italian.

You can find out more about David and his work at

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