Passage, by Adam Cornelius Tuffey

Oh what ostracons you left;
dust dancing in the hall,
the scent of orange blossom,
the question of ornaments, that remain,
there were books too,
and the space that creaked under foot-
now silent
afternoons finery on the bedroom wall
sans shadow
sans haze of laughter
All these things shine.
in all its splendour is golden
you have remade the decor of this house
and now, I must leave like
a jilted


Published 22nd of August 2019


About Adam Cornelius Tuffey 


Adam Cornelius Tuffey is a poet and archaeologist with his heart in Bristol. He writes on sexuality, politics and human rights, and is published in Agenda magazine’s online broadsheet