Tangiers

By Edward Channer

The ferry gave way to a taxi and

Led to a grubby room in yellow.

The odd car horn pierced the curtains

And vibrated the metal bin

Next to the bed I sat on.

A photo of her folded, and folded again,

And again, until it started to unfurl itself

Like a flower rooted to the bottom of the bin.

Carried here from home to

Stay, in the end, always

In this room.

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Edward lives in Oxfordshire, United Kingdom, and works in international development. He studied English at the Universities of Nottingham and Oxford and writes whenever he can.