Matthew Thompson

I relax my eyes as I stare out

of that window, greeted

with a dancing shifting landscape

and the comfort of faux purpose.

He fought and ran.

Down the staircase and out the door.

A separate man heard sirens, wished us well and ran too.

I watched as he almost

crushed a man with his car,

I witnessed the lies fall out

of his mouth, sometimes

just having to walk away and laugh the absurdity off in disbelief.

It was a release, pent up energy from a restrictive day.

There is a kind of callous

softness, a caring presence, hardened, vulnerable to express fully.

We picked up a woman stood on the

side of the road, a hand woven basket

in the clutch of her arms. What began

in the pursuit of latent hilarity, quickly dissolved into feeling profoundly touched

We’re extant, finding some existence, a small piece of presence.

Shifting his shape and character the

way water coerces the path of least

resistance. Words flow, and arrive with a confidence behind them.

Covered, temporary relief.

The guard falls and

honesty greets the present; meets deceit and ushers both to sit.

I stood, slightly unsure whether

to sit or stand, surrounded

by this family, in the midst of bad news,

I prayed that he wouldn’t doubt me and ask her name.

Matthew Rhys Thompson is a Welsh artist, based in London, UK, where he recently graduated from the Royal College of Art. His practice is focused on the subject of masculinity. His photographs are created from chance encounters with strangers and from long periods spent with friends, questioning complex issues related to identity, intimacy and the way in which certain groups convene around specific activities and rituals.