we set off at dawn.
A slow start, accelerate
down tracks, rumbling
silver rails. A crimson sun rises
East - skimming trees -
Midlands, into Birmingham.
The gradient’s against her, but she’s on time.
This is how we travel – backwards,
looking out into where we’ve been:
an engine behind
and a caravan of multiple eyes
with a clear view of the back of our head,
pulling. We look away;
focused, unawareLadies and Gentlemen. Boys and girls, uncles and aunts;
our time of oddity, bigger-head, thick neck, smiley,
is (at its best) blazing with a pungent oil, lighting
lamps in our tummy or heart which seldom can be shared.
Statistically precious because of our rarity
we shatter imagination, vision slashed away
as you and I make a different jigsaw – train crash
some might well call it – we would say more like a new sound
or music hallowing from fine cosmic dust one night
through a long code you’ve not yet broken. Take us for real
and let go of that frozen window pane of the Christ
or glossy magazine cover with midnight shadow.
Yes, clean the frosted glass and see a new bee buzzing
in Fall or a big pencil that wags and stays in line
long enough to grow an old friend – before bed time.
Can you feel a wire stretching from my belly button
towards you; breathing bubble into breathing bubble?
I adore nursery rhymes and have a large belly
under my blue shirt, like daddy bear. Shall we join hands
as warm as an ancient man who ran-down the mammoth
or woman waiting by ruddy fire and family?
You and I are not Jesus Christ as far as we know.
We’re far too stupid for that. I love you. I thank you.
On a train
seemingly
blurry trees
vapor back
pillow clouds
silver track.
Blindly
I stay me
colours turn
endlessly.
Praise be.
