Old Gray says it’s just one inch wide –
that’s thick as a broomstick. You can grasp
this rising main, a slim tree trunk
which arches up to throw off branches
before plunging deep to disappear
in damp, dark, hungry places.
So get your fingers round that pipe –
cold and clotted, solid now
but once pulsating, hot and throbbing –
for this is where, in wondrous surges
it all comes from. Or used to, when
it swelled far wider than a single inch.
© Richard Westcott
Picture 10081296, late 19th century illustration, image copyright Mary Evans
Richard Westcott (once upon a time a doctor) has had poems pop up in all sorts of places, won a prize here and there, and been listed, commended and highly commended in various competitions (including the Hippocrates, York Mix, Camden Lumen, Plough, and Poetry on the Lake). He won the Poetry Society’s annual Stanza Competition in 2018, judged by Penelope Shuttle, with his poem ‘A Traditional Cure’. A pamphlet, There they live much longer, was published by Indigo Dreams in March 2018, and his blog is at www.richardwestcottspoetry.com
Choose PDF type:
