You Are Still On the Fastest Route by Chris Dance

 

J22

Stiff scrubby stubble erupts

Bristling below cornflower skies

And piercing crumpled honey-dew blankets

Which fall, billow and rise.

 

J23

Sludgy muddy Roman squalls

Whip up waves which spit and lap.

Western winds assail walls

While crumbling concrete spans the gap.

 

J24

But my home is Victorian:

Soot-settled, smooth and warm

Black velvet, solid stone

Soft to touch, seen-it-all.

 

J25

Soggy-sewage-winter leaves

Cake crumpled steel skeletons

And summer trout in Lincoln Green

Brave the roaring river’s decibels.

 

J26

Shoppers and commuters congregate

In this tight commuter belt.

Commercial traffic coagulates

In arteries caked in salt.