Longlisted Poem 2012

Morgan Jones

Truro College, Cornwall

Pack Line

I
Delicious auburn flowers festered
Upon the creaking we walked
I swayed

You’ll be a man, my son

Vat of black stuck on wooden pew
Where we sat
Tar trickles. I want it to pour

Mustard grey, gravelled and thawed
Lights is revealed so
I see the tar and blindness

Boreholes of eyelids
Sunk cheek into teeth
Jerusalem was yours

Crooked and hands writhe
Knees wobble behind the slick slug ship
But the weather is holding down

I don’t remember how he was lowered
I danced a trance
And stepped to the line

The passing
I took some because it was alright
Flying, flying. Fud.

II
This is the best day ever,
I’ve been invited to a funeral
Had three pieces of cake
And you’re here.
© Morgan Jones

Project Details

  • Date January 17, 2015
  • Tags 2012 Voyages - Longlisted Poems