Poetry by Jack Houston

​
​Nevermind

is just about  the  only  thing  that’ll  settle him
the    opening    solo    of    ‘Smells    Like     Teen
Spirit’  having   his   little   frame   droop  in  my
arms as if inducing an ancestral  reflection   of
the  berries  piled  high  the   day’s  game    still
warm on the floor of the  encampment the  us
the troop in our assembly at  the signal of  the
evening sun enjoying a sense  of togetherness
a something we let  go  of  long  ago  and   now
only fleetingly  recreated  at  football matches
or club nights  here  in  the  ennui in   between
the       most       heinous      of       our      species'
achievements   and   those   that   will  displace
them  I’m  stood  rocking  wrap-ped  up  in  my
juvenile’s  fantasy  my  partner  off out  on the
hunt my baby now  soundo for as long  as  this
nap   lasts   and  I’m  staring  out  of  this   fifth-
floor  window  at strangers traipsing  home to
their places not even knowing  I’m up  here as
Kurt sings                         
                                                                              Oh well,
whatever,



Bio: Jack Houston used to put on warehouse parties in London, but now works in his local library and writes poems. He took second prize in last year's Poetry London Competition. Recent work online at And Other Poems.