This week’s poems, from the 2017 shortlist for the Callum Macdonald Memorial Award for Poetry Pamphlets, continues with two sharply observed Edinburgh cameos by Stewart Conn in Against the Light (Mariscat Press, £6).

 

ICE MAIDEN

 

In winter she really

comes into her own,

the New Town grey

under a watery sun,

~

its whinstone setts

ghosting broughams

and sedan chairs, silk

dresses swishing;

~

the Old Town, once

haunt of cut-purses

and men of letters,

today’s imbalance

~

more east-windy

west-endy than ever.

Formerly a prim spinster

then dowdy dowager

~

now part princess,

part hen-party hostess,

at heart she possesses

a sliver of ice. . .

 

DAVID HUME

 

He sits slouched, his incongruous toga

no protection against incessant rain, downcast

eyes glazed, oblivious of the tourists jostling

to take selfies or queuing to rub his lustrous

big toe, before receding to a safe distance

from which they remain on the qui vive, like those

who skulked for nights after his Calton burial

to see if the Devil would come to claim his soul.