The Red Brick Chocolate Factory
Up for redevelopment
To the right;
The cemetery
Run down now, to the left.
Sleepless, I could lick my lips
For either midnight fancy.
If it were warmer,
I might smell hints of the nightshift,
Of orange, mint
Or the earth turned over.
If it were later,
A choice between bars
Or railings, the lining up
Of pleasures or extinguished
Desires, placed side by side in rows.
If it were earlier,
Wooden boxes of chocolate drops,
A neat selection
Of white kiss crosses for the fallen,
Each one less than thirty.
To the left or to the right
The confectionery of our lives
Is always in jeopardy
