Ian Mullins

I a n   M u l l i n s

Face In The Crowd

One day

you will stare

so hard in my face

you will see

your own

stare back;

and like a little boy

with a firework

warm in his pocket

I will leave you

both

to your fate.

Dirty Soul

I could live in a shack

with a rusted car upended on the roof

like a dying fly

praying for sun

and a deep well out back

with a body

simmering in the heat

down below the waterline

and I’d only leave home

on winter nights

when the moon hid its eye

fearing what it might find

wintering down here,

my soul

blazing like car keys

rusted in my pocket.

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