Two poems by Michael Scott
My Dad painted by Francis Bacon Oxford Heart Centre – Critical Care Unit Someone off stage, drags him by the hair, his face smudged upwards – chin tilted, fish hooked lip, gumshield and tubes smeared left to right. Behind, digital blinks monitor oncoming strokes. I stare, eyes shut, open to a ballpoint click the curator is at my side, dressed as … Continue reading Two poems by Michael Scott