9 reads

Victoria Coach Station

The hive awakes,

Antennae like mirrors shiver

As if in death by reflex ,

huge, looming, hardening,

cock of the morning - white forms

creep to the starting line

destined for Birmingham, Bolton Brighton, and Beyond.

Behind the glass people who in another life were human

sniff the air, anticipating change,

struggling guiltily with luggage,

as murderers might.

(Lovers look like lovers, the lonely just look)

Driver’s shepherd their flock

deliver over night bags from oily wombs

and at the time of departure

Hold the eyes of the insane with their gaze.

Meanwhile in the gut of this place

beggars rinse around each seating bay

For any spare dreams, but there are none

For they all await the traveller’s tongue

in Birmingham, Bolton, Brighton, and beyond !