Free verse № 79949
At The Station
Here, full of people
Going somewhere or nowhere,
Either hustling for connections
Or loitering with a Tennant's
Or the old dear collecting for terminal patients,
Here I find in the formaldehyde
Of damp yellow light one dwelling thing
That needs neither ticket nor vending machine:
Moss, like a comic moustache
That's slipped from above a bank clerk's grin
And counts us rattling out and in,
The loose change in the collector's tin.
5 comments
Other than that good, is the formaldehyde reference inspired by damien hirst?
The loose rhyme scheme suits this piece, not so distracting that it detracts from the imagery, but enough to make itself known in the background.
Top class.
Log in to add a comment.