CITY CLERK By Gail. R John Smith, wearing clothes Carefully ironed by Mother Ate toast on the way To the bus-stop. He paid with the correct change, Gave up his seat to a pregnant girl Who reminded him of someone He'd once loved, and Arriving at his office punctually, In time to see the payroll delivered John Smith, clerk at Mathew & Son For twenty years on minimum wage Snatched the money and ran. He was never heard of again, though Mother is sure It's just a phase he's going through. copyright. Gail.R. 2001 WITHOUT WORDS By Gail. R. I am without words today My paper lies untouched, Stark white The bleached bones Of an extinct animal Lying undiscovered For centuries. Until the dig begins And thoughts, Like eager students Under the gaze of their professor Reveal the fossils And create the past anew. Copyright: Gail. R. 2001 GANG BOYZ By Gail.R waiting for fish and chips I watch you in Your baggy pants, Baseball cap turned Backwards, High-top sneakers. I listen to your gang-speak, "Yo blood, I been lookin' Fo' your ass", And I wonder when I started living in America. Copyright. Gail. R. 2001 LIBRARY DAY By Gail. R The books prowl in rows Silent to ears, Calling out in my head. Like puppies in an RSPCA shelter, Tails wagging, Pick me, pick me. The bright-coated ones Catch my eye, though The plain, sad one Could be worth a second look. Copyright Gail. R. 2001