Joanna Peace

Under the Dome

Selected for inclusion in 2HB Vol. 22, published by the CCA, Glasgow, 2017


A great glassy eyeball

The apex of the dome is like a great glassy eyeball I am craning my head back
To see.                  Blue sky forming
Blue iris. Evil Eye
spinning out from metal pupil, I am craning my head back
To see
To receive, if it will,
           protection

A great glassy eyeball

There is a hill that I summit often for the clear view out of the city. Today it is cold but sunny at the summit and the wind whips my turquoise scarf between eyes and sky. I have time (such precious pleasure) and I am without company. Something tugs at my tailcoat, and, persistent, I turn my back on the coveted view and follow the tug down toward the darker side of the hill. On this side there is a glasshouse, I discover, t-shaped and facing it an abandoned Victorian hospital, all dark red brick and high windows that sprawls, embarrassed, next to its shining – healthy - pastel replacement. 

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