Saturday, 22 June 2013

The X3 From Bournemouth To Salisbury

For The Wooden Boy

The bus shelter shapes a rain hide to observe the rain from,
see how it behaves when it thinks no-one's looking.
The woman behind wears a purple coat and starts coughing
in a way that makes me glad I'm standing upwind.
The red bus arrives, a golden crucifix glowing
in its destination board.

Step on board. Drop gold change into the collection box.
The priest driver places the wafer-ticket on my tongue.
Climb a spiralling stair to meet the stares of passenger gargoyles.
Fall into a pew at the back. Plug myself in to enjoy the service.
As the hymn gets going the plastic surrounds
of the windows transform into grey stones.
Heat of the passengers. Some sipping holy red bull,
others kindling sacred texts. The windows
stain with the breath we contain. Travel
through a green and pleasant land
until the bell says it's time to leave.

The tickets are all singles there being
nowhere to return to and only
nowhere, naturally,
to journey,
go on to.

2 comments:

Pages

Morlock Oil

Morlock Oil
A new collection of stories available now . Click on image for details.

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery
New Chapbook Available (email rockinahill@gmail.com for details)

Furrow

Furrow
Bunchgrass Press

Essential guides for the journey...