Mice spend with abandon
hundreds per minute
spilling out as they scuttle.
Whereas blue whales
know the value,
enough power in one beat to
keep the lights on.
Somewhere inside
a countdown is falling
but don’t cut yourself open
you’ll never turn it back
with magnets.
You can slow the drum
by enjoying the rain
toasting the moon
lying with me in the dark,
trying to hear the sea.
— Published 15th of September 2019
About John Porter
After living in a Moscow and London John Porter is now in Gloucestershire. He has degrees in Russian and Law and when not juggling his two small sons he writes poems, usually on trains. His work had appeared in publications including The Stinging Fly, Prole and Strix. He tweets @John_A_Porter and has a website at https://www.johnporterauthor.com/
Read more poems by John here