The most lonely space I ever saw,
incomplete, for people-void,
white-light site with vacant stare,
abandoned cell, no prisoners,
insomnia, awake through force,
unstaffed pale face, station at night.
The starkest change from Adlestrop,
fluorescent unknown name strip broke
by bottle thrown or stone from slab.
But who would want to recall tag?
Willow herb least growing, live.
Imagining a singing bird
too far for inner sight or ear –
too bleak for calling, colly wing.
How distant Clapham Junction or
the omnibus, daily full,
populace, porters turn deaf ear
to luggage plea, livery, soot,
the pencil boy with spotter pad,
juggernaut brewing smoke signals,
bogies hidden, wind-up copied,
Hornby Dublo, hobby track.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had over 160 pieces published by on-line poetry sites, including Poetry Potion, printed journals and anthologies. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/