Light Pressure – a Cut-Out Poem

Or a ‘Work-Out Poem’, perhaps. At our little local gym this week I started taking notice of all the many notices around the place. You know those set-ups where everyone involved in the running thereof at some point has produced and printed and put-up instructions, directions, and tellings-off and woe-betides: a litany resulting, in different styles and voices and fonts…

There’s one such printed notice for the sauna I’d often clocked whilst showering after a crosstrainer session (I opt for that equipment as it has the best ledge for my iPad, and my work-out catch-ups of, in this case, Inspector Montalbano – a series of stories I’d been blind to, but in the post-Wallander hole and the gap between The Bridge, I find I reach for anything subtitled that isn’t over in a heartbeat, and this Sicilian gig is a hoot, with just the right gastronomic content I look for in a detective yarn), and, well, it comes with the opening line here. I think it’s rather wonderful. The un-cut line about the elements, I mean. To think that somebody wrote that lovely rhythm in a less-than-lovely mood…

The rest is built from five undercover snaps on my way out of the building. And the colours, I’m pleased to say, are created from a screening mask of a photo of the pragmatic paintwork surrounding one of the helpful, laminated lessons.

Okay. Now work that body…

Light Pressure

 

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About Stevie Mitchell

I come from a long line of cartoons and beer. I was once peed on by a tiger. Hoping the resultant super-powers are yet to come, cos if these are they, then, grrrr....
This entry was posted in Creative Writing, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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