Alan Peat

Surface Flaking

This morning I spent a good hour wandering around in the eighteenth century. The room was all powder and pomade—ladies in muslin, men in cravats. And there among them was Wesley, waving out at his lost congregation. It’s easy to fall for such an embarrassment of elegance. I admit, I’m a sucker for a cartwheel straw hat and a plumped-up pair of ‘rising moons.’ But rouge lies thick over smallpox scars and every mouth’s closed as the teeth are quite rotten. And as for those ponderous coiffures: they go up like a torch if you stand too close to a fluted candelabra. Beneath the French gowns and hoop-skirts, every petticoat is tightly bound and the bones of dead whales keep you upright.

And, after the eighteenth century is over there’s a long, cold corridor of monochrome debutantes, white-gloved for their coming out, long before the last curtesy.

Then there’s the gift shop and the revolving door. . .

into the darkness—
leaving the fading stars
behind

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About the Author

Alan Peat is a UK-based poet and author. His work has featured in Frogpond, Mayfly, Heliosparrow, The Heron’s Nest, Presence, Hedgerow, and Blithe Spirit, among others. In 2021 he placed third in the International Golden Triangle Haiku contest and second in the New Zealand International Haiku contest.