Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 13, 2026

Bethnal Green

By N. Chamchoun

Bethnal Green

A journey to Bethnal Green.
It seems odd to take this path
when it doesn't lead to you,
every weekend racing to merge.

Unpacking the whole week's events.
when the words faded,
a flood of desire
carrying away the world's lament.

Now the words have stopped.
The desire, terminated.
Faded snapshots of memory
as I alight at your stop.

A cat burglar in your hood.
Here for my own ends,
avoiding detection,
the places you stood.

In the rush hour trickle and flow,
beaming in your manor.
The Pearly King of banter,
lullabies of the Bells of Bow.

I am the thief of love,
taking hearts when mine is broken,
unbearable, hopeful longing, unspoken,
stealing through coves
of love's end
in the East End.








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