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.