Voting Intentions (a congenial exercise in secrecy)
It is an act of communion, that slip
posted in a tin-black mouth.
The don't-blame-me defence for years to come.
Once perhaps the everyday note to milkmen,
under empty bottle, weighed down by habit.
Its order sometimes blurred by rain.
Or maybe a love letter's captive thought,
long pondered, with aching hope sent off.
The entreaty hidden beneath a doormat.
Or just the random prejudice of a moment,
clutched at, like a tabloid spread
in sudden ill-wind swept up and flailing.
Then, within a flimsy booth, set down
in two fleeting strokes of thick, soft pencil:
our only choice, this folded curse.
From Birmingham via the Isle of Wight, Mark Cassidy now teaches Radiography in Portsmouth, where he lives with two rabbits, seven trees and the rest of his family. His poetry has appeared in various European magazines, including Skylight 47 "probably Ireland's most interesting poetry publication", and may also be found on his blog, Fractures. During the late 1970s/early 1980s Mark was a supporter of the Clause 4 group within the National Organisation of Labour Students.