Saturday 5 April 2014

Bus note 93

Her white fur head band
with flecks
of red pollution dust.
        Broken diamante phone
is a mirror where
she does up her face.
        Insect machinery
        shows up at edge.
Her inch long gold nails
window tapping
        till she turns
        and looks back hard;
        eyes perplexer jellies.
The Camp Hill boys
with smooth wealth pallor
        tick off mini-cruelties.
Sweating Chinese kid
from some long bad shift
goes along to sleep
with head to cold glass.
        Where the magnolia
        flowers cup up
        now is here.
       

6 comments:

  1. The perfume of a fierce turf; wonderful poem!

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  2. From one Turf Poet to another, I thank you.

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  3. Those mini-cruelties can be very unsettling,even on the best of days...Wonderful note again..

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  4. How pleasant to escape from anthropological entomology into botanical ecstasy.

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  5. Manik, Vassilis and Tom - Thank you.

    It's strange. No matter how many times I come across schoolboy viciousness on the bus it always throws me.

    There are few shewings of botanical ecstasy as grand as the magnolia.

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