\na hundred i love yous<\/em> scratched on blue paint
\ncrumbs of old pastry scattered on tables
\na thick russian hat kept the cold from my face<\/p>\n
under pale domes of the cracked french cathedral
\n(an old taj mahal dripping wax on pigalle)
\nconversation distilled into transparent pearls
\nmy words dry as ice condensed in the sunlight<\/p>\n
i tapped on the handrails in vatican gift shops,
\nwhere icons in gold were sold for a steal
\nto tourists, as penance, coins forming small mountains
\na new den of thieves in a black flag bastille<\/p>\n
a ring on my hand, hematite, fitted tight
\nfollowed the shape of an archangel’s feet
\nwhere requiem’s silence was spiked by stilettos
\nthe sound ricocheted from the black stained glass peaks<\/p>\n
past bistros, bookshops, or cafes, where old men
\nleaned against heaters smoking gitanes
\nyou pulled on my patch gloves, rubbed on my hands
\nand bought me \u00e9clairs by an old peepshow stand <\/p>\n
in only five hours, a snapshot in time
\nwalking like ghosts of a decadent past
\nwithout a direction, we stared at manaras;
\nblood, spit and sawdust \u2013 a wintertime fast.<\/p>\n
the flickering light was my own dream machine By Adelle Stripe<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16535","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16535","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16535"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16535\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16535"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16535"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16535"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"mugshot2\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/11\/mugshot2.gif\")
\nABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong>
\nAdelle Stripe<\/strong><\/a> is a poet from Tadcaster who lives in Mytholmroyd, Yorkshire. She is a founding member of The Brutalists (alongside Tony O’Neill and Ben Myers) and has published two solo collections Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid<\/em><\/a> and the recently-released Cigarettes In Bed<\/em><\/a>, both of which are published by Blackheath Books. She writes about noisy bands for The Stool Pigeon<\/em>, is the fiction editor of the Manchester arts magazine Flux<\/em> and is currently working on a major poetry project based on The Yorkshire Ripper called The Beast I Am<\/em>. A 3:AM interview with Adelle is forthcoming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"![\"adelle\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/11\/mugshot1-150x150.gif\")
on a train, through the fog, where the sun was the moon
\nand boats laid asleep on the silver rink marsh
\nwhere church spires were strangled by dead tree silhouettes
\ni listened to the murmur of sorrowful songs<\/p>\n
\nfingertips numb i pictured verlaine
\nand walked over cobbles (past dog shit and bottles)
\nup steps to a view through antique snickleways<\/p>\n