‘Prodigals’: Four sonnets by Martin Malone
Prodigals Friday Night: 9:30 The cancelled train of last week’s lost high now behind us, we ease deep into chairs, each snugging the glove of shared hunger. Our deferred pleasure in escape declares itself open for business with a glass of good wine and a glance that reads my returning gaze. We let minutes pass in this way, just us looking, here in Leeds in … Continue reading ‘Prodigals’: Four sonnets by Martin Malone