Rhubbarb

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#posts #poetry



Some daft bastard decided to chew on the poison,
another threw debris and loam over the mounds,
so now here he is, daylight starved, guarding
full cases of this barbarian root, each box
holding petioles in rows like pink pencils.

The carriage rumbles in almost words and imitation
whispers, sitting below the surface of understanding,
Rhubbarb, Rhubbarb, Rhubbarb,
murmuring in rocks and lulls towards Spitalfields.

He got into the business early, sealed the sheds himself,
begged for shoddy and mungo to line poor clay soil,
walked from plant to plant with candle held high.
In the artificial night he revelled as they spoke
in squeaks and pops, yearning towards
a long forgotten sun. He counts the chests again.
All he has is crowns. He'll be a king soon.


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